A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol
by CircleSky
Summary: What seemed like a harmless tradition has created quite a stir in the tiny community of Stars Hollow. Feel-good fluff for your Christmas reading enjoyment. Dean-friendly R/J, L/L and L/D, and plenty of non-shipper goodness. Collaboration with MahliaLily.
1. What's Danny Bonaduce Doing Up There?

OK, this story uses some anachronisms for effect. It takes place in the present time (Christmas 2002); however, the status of Rory and Jess's relationship only reflects the events up to Episode 2.13 'A-Tisket, A-Tasket'. As far as Rory and Jess are concerned, Episodes 2.19 'Teach Me Tonight', through to the current episode, never happened. Jess did, however, get a car, and Jess and Luke's home was renovated. 

With regards to the Lane Kim plotline, episode 3.09 'A Deep-Fried Korean Thanksgiving' never happened.

Pairings: Dean-friendly Rory/Jess, Lorelai/Luke and Lane/Dave

This story is a **collaborative effort** between MahliaLily (http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788) and CircleSky.

**A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol**

**CHAPTER 1: What's Danny Bonaduce Doing Up There?**

With a chipper skip to his step, Taylor Doose walked into Luke Danes' diner shortly after five o'clock. Inside, Lorelai Gilmore was begging Luke for more coffee, as per usual. Taylor propped himself up on a stool at the counter, ignoring the annoyed look that momentarily clouded Luke's face. Luke was normally surly, at least whenever Taylor saw him.

"Morning Luke," Taylor said cheerfully. Turning to the lovely, but brazen, dark-haired woman on his right, he added, "Morning, Lorelai. I do hope you're both coming to the town meeting tonight."

"Rory and I will definitely be there. We never miss a town meeting. Well, we never miss the last half of a town meeting anyway. Is this the one where we discuss the Christmas festivities?" asked Lorelai.

Taylor eyed her. The woman was a paradox: deeply involved with town functions on the one hand and, on the other, perpetually late to town meetings. And now she was questioning the agenda of that day's meeting? "It most certainly is," Taylor said proudly. "You know that – first Monday in December." 

"Oh, of course," Lorelai replied, acknowledging her obviously apparent silliness. "You're coming too, right, Luke?" 

"Anh. Is that all that's on the agenda, Taylor? Cause I'm not too interested in the Christmas festivities. I'm sure you'll just inform me of the town's new twinkle lights policy later."

"There are a few more items to discuss. But it is mostly for Christmas," Taylor conceded.

"I'll pass."

Appalled, Lorelai spoke up. "But Luke, you have to be at the meeting so you can put your name into the Secret Santa pool."

"I'll pass on that too."

"No, come on, Luke!"

"No, really. It's OK," he assured her.

"It'll put some magic in your Christmas season," chimed Lorelai.

"It's already so magical. I'm in awe."

"Yeah, but remember last year? When Babette was your Secret Santa, and she gave you your very own gnome? That was great, right? I can still remember that look of pure joy on your face when you opened the box and saw little Opie staring back at you. It was like all of your dreams had finally come true," she finished wistfully, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he dismissed, refusing to play into her hands.

"Luke, where's your town spirit?" interrupted Taylor.

"You stay out of this, Taylor," Luke barked.

"Luke, I'm the head of the CSHSS, therefore I have an obligation to encourage people to take part in the festivities."

"The CSHSS?" Luke repeated incredulously.

"The Committee for Stars Hollow Seasonal Spirit, Luke," Taylor replied, at which point both of the men rolled their eyes, though for entirely different reasons.

"Luke," Lorelai bargained. "If you come to the meeting, then I promise I won't bug you for any more coffee tonight."

"If I go to the meeting, you won't be able to bug me for coffee anyway 'cause I will be at Town Hall _at the meeting_!" Luke emphasized. "Therefore, I won't be in the diner to serve it. But if you go to the meeting alone, then I won't even be around you to hear you begging."

"Luke. Can I have some coffee?" She put on her whiniest voice, her eyes sparkling. "Luke. Please! Some coffee!"

"All right already!" Luke caved quickly, knowing it would be the only way to shut her up. Lorelai was nothing if not persistent. "But if I have to go," he continued, pointing a finger at his chest. "Jess has to go. I'll need someone to gripe with me." Luke poured coffee for Lorelai and then for Taylor. Taylor barely hid his disappointment at the mention of Luke's nephew, Jess Mariano, the town's juvenile delinquent.

"Go where?" Jess asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs just in time to catch the end of the conversation.

"To the town meeting."

"Why?"

"To plan the Christmas festivities."

"Are you serious? How much Hee-Haw, small town shenanigans must one person endure?"

Luke poured coffee for another customer at the counter. "I'm not sure, but I've just about reached my limit."

"Oh, Jess, make sure Luke brings little Opie. We wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun," Lorelai teased before bringing the cup of coffee to her lips.

***

Later that night, Jess and Luke reluctantly walked into the town meeting, only to have Miss Patty all but thrust small, variously coloured ballot papers in their faces. "Hey boys. Fill these out for the Secret Santa drawing," the older woman said with her characteristic flirty voice.

"Secret Santa?" said Jess with a groan. "She's joking, right?"

"Unfortunately, no," Luke replied and then turned to the woman. "That's OK, Patty, I think we'll pass. Right, Jess?"

"Right." For once, uncle and nephew agreed wholeheartedly. Not giving Patty time to respond, they hurried to their seats.

As soon as they sat down, Luke saw Lorelai enter the hall. "Uh-oh. Duck," Luke ordered just before slumping as low as possible in his seat. It was too late though. Lorelai's voice boomed above the townsfolk's chatter.

"Luke! Patty says you didn't fill out a ballot! Come over here and fill one out."

Jess turned to look at Lorelai and then back at Luke, smirking. "Busted!" 

Glancing back at Lorelai again, Jess noticed that Lorelai's daughter, Rory, was there as well, also filling out a ballot. Jess should have known that Rory would be taking part. The Gilmores were notoriously festive, in direct contradiction to the bearers of the Danes' anti-festivity gene. Rory was definitely interesting.

Just then, Rory's boyfriend, Dean Forester, came up the stairs and entered the hall. Jess frowned as he watched Rory kiss him and smilingly pass him a ballot. Nauseous, Jess turned away from the repulsive display. Once again, he had to secretly admit that his desire to slug Dean was due to pangs of jealousy.

There was no love lost between Jess and Dean. Jess had, in fact, almost slugged the boy once before and had already bested Dean at the town's basket auction. Making a bid for her basket that Dean could not have beaten, Jess won the charming company of Rory and infused a perma-scowl on the taller boy's face in the process. Dean's scowl had been the proverbial icing though. The best part by far had been his date with Rory.

Rory was the only person in town to whom Jess might actually enjoy giving gifts. _In fact_, Jess thought, _this little, countrified abhorrence could be the perfect chance to work some magic on her_. A chance to shower her with gifts without breaking the rules – while following the rules, in fact. What a concept!

Glancing around the room, Jess guessed that there were only about a hundred people there, and what with the three different colours of ballot paper, his odds got a little better. One out of thirty-three was still a long shot, but maybe Jess could draw Rory's name. 

"Come on, Luke. Looks like she caught us," he said. Jess fixed a wearied expression on his face, as though Lorelai had roped him into participation as well. He hoped Luke wouldn't notice that she'd done no such thing.

"Traitor!" muttered Luke, and the two of them ambled over to the door and began filling out their names and addresses on the small ballot papers. 

***

An hour later, the meeting was in the home stretch. Luke and Jess had successfully endured the soul-deadening discussion, with a little help from the wisecracks interjected by Lorelai and Rory who were sitting across the aisle. But now the moment had come. Taylor puffed himself up and tried to look a little more important. Jess shook his head. He got a kick out of the cardigan-clad, one-man, town pep squad.

"And now, folks. If there is no more business to be discussed." Taylor paused, as though to turn the meeting over to the floor, but no one spoke up. "I give you the moment you've all been waiting for: the Secret Santa drawing!"

Luke groaned.

"For those of you who are new here, I'll explain the tradition," announced Taylor, thoroughly enjoying his role as the center of attention as always. "Most of you have already entered your name into the drawing. If you have not, the gracious Miss Patty will bring a ballot around to you. If you haven't already, enter now, People! Anyone? Has everyone already entered?"

"I think so, Taylor," said Miss Patty.

"Last chance, People." He paused. "Very good. Now before you leave, be sure to pull a name out of the hat. If it's your name, put it back in and draw another one. That means you, Bootsie! I will not tolerate a repeat of last year," he chided. Then, without missing a beat, he continued, "The person on your slip of paper is your secret _Giftee_." Taylor enthusiastically punctuated the word with a gesture of his right hand. Jess chuckled to himself; he was pretty sure Taylor had been kept up late last night by his excitement to use the made-up word.

Taylor went on, as he was known to do. "You will secretly give that person 5 gifts, one a day until the Eve of Christmas, following a few simple guidelines I've drawn up, of course. Patty will have the guidelines available at the door as you go out. Meanwhile, another neighbourly townsperson will be secretly giving gifts to you. Then, on Christmas Eve, at the party in Town's Square, you will reveal your identity, and much good cheer will ensue! Meeting adjourned. Be sure to draw a name before you leave!" and with the thwack of Taylor's gavel, the townspeople began to filter out through the door, an excited Taylor leading the way.

"That was a good meeting," commented Rory, as she licked the last of the buttered flavour off her fingertips. She stood up and proceeded slowly as the crowd bottlenecked in the aisle.

"Of course," replied Lorelai. "And it went so well with popcorn."

"Only people I know who can get this excited over town meetings," observed Dean jovially.

"Anyone who doesn't find these meetings entertaining is crazy," said Lorelai.

"Yeah, sometimes they're entertaining," Dean agreed.

"Sometimes! Did you hear that, Daughter Dear? He said 'sometimes'." 

"Yeah, I heard that," Rory replied with mocking disapproval. "They're _always_ entertaining."

"Yeah, if you can't understand that," Lorelai chimed in. "You're crazy."

"Yeah," Rory giggled. "We're talking a few verses short of a Christmas carol, my friend!"

"Hey," Dean protested.

"Oooh!" Lorelai said, laughing. "I like that! A few verses short…" Lorelai broke off laughing again.

The girls continued slowly up the aisle, whereas Dean paused for a beat, and nearly got bumped from behind by an impatient Bootsie. Dean shook his head wryly at the futility of the conversation; there was no way out of this one. Rory turned around to stick out her tongue impudently. Dean couldn't help but smile at the twinkle in her eyes.

Once they'd reached the door, Dean snatched a ballot from the hat Miss Patty offered him and stepped out into the chilly night air. Miss Patty winked at him as he did so. Much to his chagrin, Lorelai and Rory noticed and promptly started teasing him about that instead.

Luke and Jess followed shortly behind. Luke chose a yellow paper out of the hat. "Oh, that's not so bad, I guess. I can do that," was all he said.

Now the hat of names was in front of Jess, and he reached inside. He'd seen Rory fill out a green slip of paper at the door so Jess plucked out a green one. Once Miss Patty moved on with the hat, Jess unfolded the slip.

"Oh, geez! I don't believe it!" he moaned.

Luke, standing next to Jess, tried to take a peek at the slip. Jess hid it quickly, stuffing the offending paper into his pocket.

"What's wrong? Do you need me to point the person out?" asked Luke, referring to the fact that Jess was rather new in town.

"No. I know the person." Boy, did he ever. Jess was the Secret Santa of none other than Rory's wonderful boyfriend, Dean Forester. Jess scowled wearily while Luke raised an eyebrow.

Outside on the sidewalk, Taylor Doose watched Jess with an identical expression. Unbeknownst to Jess, Taylor's slip of paper held Jess's name. Suddenly, a much-adored tradition had turned ugly.

***

The Gilmores and Dean were strolling across Town Square, away from the meeting, when Rory's friend Lane Kim trotted up behind them.

"Hey, Lane!" said Lorelai. "Did your mother let you take part in the Secret Santa drawing this year?"

"Are you kidding?" Lane answered. "The day Mama Kim lets me take part in the Secret Santa festivities is the day Noel and Liam finally start getting along!"

"Never gonna happen," Lorelai stated.

"Exactly."

"That's too bad!" commiserated Rory, giving her best friend a loose hug.

"It's OK. I'm used to it," Lane assured her as they walked on. "So is everybody happy with their Giftees?" 

"Uh. Well. I guess so," muttered Lorelai.

"Who'd you get, Mom?"

"I can't tell you. It's supposed to be a secret."

"Tell me later?"

"Of course." They walked on. "I will tell you, however, that it's really bad."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Dean said.

"No, it is!"

"Please." Dean turned to her. "I drew Miss Patty's name. Top that!"

"Oh no!" Lane and Rory chorused.

"Oh! It'll take months of avoiding her flirtatious come-ons to counteract 5 little gifts!" commiserated Lorelai.

"I know," Dean sighed. 

"You're right. You win," Lorelai admitted.

"If this is what it takes to win, I'd rather lose, believe me," Dean stated, sadly. "Well, I'm gonna go home… and mope."

"Aww, my poor Sweetie!" Rory soothed, moving in to kiss him. "Goodnight. Feel better."

"Thanks." Dean kissed her back. Neither took notice of the 'gagging' noises passing between Lorelai and Lane. "Night, All," Dean said when the kiss was finished. Lorelai and Lane bid their goodnights, and Dean's course veered off to the left.

"What about you, Rory? Who's your Giftee?" Lane asked.

"I don't know her. Shannon Hicks. Do you know her?"

"It's a guy."

"A guy named Shannon?"

"Yeah," said Lane. "He's a sophomore at SHHS." 

"Oh. You'll have to point him out to me. It's gonna be hard trying to buy for someone I don't know."

"Not as hard as buying for someone you know really, really well," Lorelai moaned.

"How can it be hard to buy for someone you know?" Lane asked, curious.

"When every gift will have hidden meaning attached to it."

"Hidden meaning?" Rory repeated. Coming to a realization, she smiled widely. "I know who Mom has," she sang in a teasing voice.

"Who?" Lane inquired.

"Luke!" Rory said triumphantly.

"Ah!" Lorelai uttered, her mouth gaping open in shock. "You're a witch! Quick, Lane, to a lake! We'll throw her in, and, if she floats, she really is a witch, and we can do away with her. If she sinks – well, she's cleared, but she's still fish food. I win either way." Lorelai grinned evilly.

"Luke, Luke, Luke, Luke," Rory chanted melodically.

"Stop saying Luke or I'll have to puke," Lorelai ordered. "Hey, Luke rhymes with puke. I'll have to file that away for future reference."

"What's so bad about having Luke?" Lane questioned.

Lorelai and Rory exchanged looks. Then Rory began, "Well, when you're in lo—"

"Stop right there, child, or I really will burn you at the stake. Enough discussion of Luke. It's time to guess who our Secret Santas are."

"But we haven't even received gifts yet," Rory pointed out. 

"It's a tradition. C'mon. Ooh, maybe the cute milkman has me!" Lorelai suggested.

"Mom, he's practically 100."

"Didn't stop Anna Nicole," she declared as they continued towards their house. "Besides, maybe he'll give me ice cream."

***

The next morning, Jess dragged himself to school. It was during 2nd period math that he finally got a chance to read his book-du-jour. He probably should have been working on algebra, but he didn't let that bother him. 

Just minutes after he began reading, the teacher left the room to make photocopies, and, in no time, the silence was eaten away by students' chatter. Two girls - a redhead and a blond with brown roots - crossed the room and clustered around the girl situated on Jess's right. The three began prattling on in stage whispers. Jess tried to ignore their babble and focus on his novel. However, it became increasingly difficult not to listen to them as their conversation got more involved. Jess found himself rereading a single sentence over and over.

"It would have been so cool to draw his name! I've liked him for so long!" said Jess's classroom neighbour, a blond whom he vaguely knew as Lindsay or Linda. Jess realized they were talking about Secret Santas. _Oh, shut up already!_ he thought, hating to be reminded of his predicament.

"But instead I drew his girlfriend's name," she lamented. With a sigh, Jess finally gave up on his book. It seemed their conversation could pique his interest after all. He had found himself in the exact same situation, having drawn Rory's boyfriend's name. 

The redhead, whom Jess didn't know, piped up. "Who's his girlfriend? I've never seen him around school with any girls."

"That's cause she goes to some fancy, hoity-toity private school in Hartford."

"Her name's Rory," twittered the natural brunette.

"So now I have to buy gifts for my competition!" The blond moaned.

Meanwhile, Jess had all but dropped his book. She had drawn Rory's name. Cool as ice, Jess slid his desk a couple feet to the right so that it aligned with that of his new partner in crime. "Hey, it's Lindsay, right?" he inquired conspiratorially.

"Linda."

"Right, Linda. So Linda, I couldn't help but overhear, you were yakkin' so loud."

"Gee, thanks," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I think I may be able to help you out."

"Oh really?" She exchanged doubtful looks with her friends, as if to say 'Who is this guy?' Turning back to him with a sarcastic look, she said, "And how might you do that?"

Jess reached into his pocket where he'd crumpled Dean's ballot the night before. He'd worn the same jeans this morning – actually, he'd slept in them the night before - and the paper was right where he'd left it. He flattened the note and tossed it down on the desk in front of Linda. With glee, he watched her eyes get very wide.

"What is it?" the redhead was curious to know.

"You've got Dean's name."

"He does?" The redhead grabbed at the paper, but Linda snatched it up first.

"Trade ya?" Jess asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Yeah!" she replied, shaking his hand. "Secret Santa just got a whole lot better this year."

"Who'd I get then?" Jess inquired, seemingly innocent.

"Oh!" The blond reached into her purse and pulled out a little green piece of paper. "Rory Gilmore."

"Oh! Rory Gilmore? What a surprise!" As he took the paper and read the particulars written in her small, flowing script, Jess just couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

***

Across town in the kitchen of the Independence Inn, Lorelai was with her best friend and favourite chef, Sookie St. James, also discussing the objects of their gift giving. Lorelai had just broken down and admitted she'd chosen Luke's name out of the hat. 

Sookie could barely contain her glee when Lorelai told her the news. Lorelai and Luke were so hung up on one another. This could be interesting! Distracted by this new development, Sookie was completely oblivious to the containers of sage and thyme spices that she had just knocked over. 

Despite Sookie's apparent excitement, Lorelai was just a little bit upset. "But do you know how hard it will be to buy for Luke?"

"But you've bought clothes for him before. How hard could it be?"

"But I was buying those clothes for him so he could impress Rachel," Lorelai stated, referring with some distaste to the only woman with which Lorelai had ever known Luke to have a serious relationship. It was a feeling she had despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that Rachel was such a wonderful person. "Now he's unattached, and these gifts will hold more weight. I have to proceed carefully."

Sookie giggled blissfully and got that annoyingly knowing look in her eyes. "You just feel that way because you like him."

"Sookie!" Lorelai exclaimed. "You know Luke and I are just friends."

"I know. But I also know you both want to be more. You don't hide it from me, Sweetie."

Lorelai groaned. First, Rory had said that the night before and now Sookie! "Enough about my Giftee. Who did you get?"

"Kirk."

"Oooh, that's tough."

"And scary."

***

Tune in tomorrow. Please review!

This story is a **collaborative effort** between MahliaLily (http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788) and CircleSky.


	2. Does Dove Even Make Turtles?

This story is a **collaborative effort** between MahliaLily (http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788) and CircleSky.

**A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol**

**CHAPTER 2: Does Dove Even Make Turtles?**

A few weeks later - one day before the shortest day of the year - the sun had already begun its depressing habit of setting by 4 o'clock. Sighing audibly, Rory trudged into the brightly lit bookstore, followed closely by an unamused Lane. 

"How is it," Lane posed, "that a town with less than two hundred people can somehow manage to support this many stores?" 

"I have no idea!" Rory moaned. "Where did they all come from? I swear, it seems like whenever my mom or I need something, we have to go to Hartford to get it, and yet we are surrounded by all these stores. They're everywhere." 

Nodding, Lane added thoughtfully, "You know, if we tiled the sidewalks, put in lots of fluorescent lights, and turned the center of town into a food court, we could give the Mall of America a serious run for its money." 

"Do _not_ let Taylor hear you say that!" Rory warned jokingly. 

"You're right. My lips are sealed," Lane promised, running her fingers across her mouth in a zipping motion. 

Remembering their mission, they both sighed and glanced around the store. 

"I'm tired," Rory complained. 

"My feet hurt," chimed Lane. 

"I'm cranky." 

"You're cranky?" Lane scoffed. 

"Yes, Secret Santa sucks." 

"You love Secret Santa," Lane reminded Rory. 

"I loved Secret Santa. Past tense. I no longer love Secret Santa." 

"Chin up, Ebenezer! You'll find something for Shannon. Don't worry." 

"I am not going to find anything for Shannon," Rory said resignedly. "I'm not going to find anything because there's nothing to be found. The boy is an enigma. How can I be expected to shop for an enigma?" 

"He's far from an enigma," Lane assured her. "He probably couldn't even define enigma, much less be one." 

"We've been shopping all day, and I'm still empty-handed," Rory complained. "Why'd I have to get stuck being Secret Santa for a complete stranger?" 

"Because this isn't 'Beverly Hills, 90210' where everything is always conveniently kept within the bounds of our small, exclusive group of friends?" Lane offered.

"You aren't helping." 

"Sorry, sorry. What can I do? I'm here to help." 

"Okay," Rory answered, pausing in contemplation. "Well, we're in a bookstore." 

"Yes, we are. Very observant." 

"So, what kinds of books does Shannon read?" 

"Shannon?" Lane repeated. 

"Yes, Shannon. My Giftee. We've been over this." 

"I know, but... I've never actually seen Shannon read," Lane confessed. 

"Never?" Rory asked incredulously. 

"Not even school books." 

"Great. Great!" Rory exclaimed. "That's it! I give up! I knew I shouldn't have procrastinated, but I did anyway. Now it's the first day of gift giving, and I have nothing. Where's the nearest gumball machine?" 

Lane smiled. "I don't think it's time for the gumballs yet. Besides, Shannon has braces. His orthodontist would probably hunt you down if you gave him gum." 

"Of course," Rory mumbled, folding her arms over her chest. 

They stood in silence for a while, gazing around the bookstore. Rory was growing more and more despondent when suddenly Lane said excitedly, "Okay, I have a plan!" 

"Shoot!" Rory urged her, turning to her best friend and praying the idea was brilliant. 

"Ok, you go look at the magazines," Lane suggested, pointing her outstretched index fingers towards the right end of the store. "Who knows, maybe something will jump out at you. I'll go back to the music store and see if we overlooked anything there." 

Rory sent Lane a disappointed look. "Some best friend you are! You just want to go stare longingly at your drums some more." 

"That's not true," Lane contended while backing quickly towards the door. "I'm helping. You will either have a gift for Shannon Hicks before this day is done or I will allow my mother to send me to a religious Korean boarding school." 

Rory shifted in annoyance. "I'm holding you to that, you know." 

"Believe me, I know. And, for the record, you're right, you _are_ cranky!" Lane teased before smiling and darting out the door.

Rory watched Lane go and then turned back to the store. She couldn't believe that she was in a bookstore, and she wasn't enjoying herself. "Bah humbug," she mumbled under her breath before taking Lane's advice and heading to the magazine section. Her eyes half-heartedly scanned the titles. Better Homes and Gardens. Somehow she doubted that Shannon Hicks was into home decorating or gardening. Martha Stewart Living... Motor Trend... Seventeen. Rory chuckled to herself. _I don't think he wants to read about how hot Josh Hartnett is either._ Spin... Cosmopolitan... People. _This is ridiculous!_ Sighing for what very well could have been the hundredth time that day, Rory picked up a copy of Time and started paging through it. 

After a few minutes of skimming, she returned the magazine to the rack and absentmindedly began wandering around the store. A display of discounted classic novels caught her eye. Momentarily ignoring the reason she was in the bookstore, Rory walked over and began shuffling through the books. She'd been wanting something new to read, and her mother would be very disappointed if she passed up a sale. Moving The Grapes of Wrath and Agnes Grey out of the way, Rory unearthed The Fountainhead. She couldn't help but smile as her thoughts immediately turned to Jess and his disdain for the book. She could just imagine the agonized groan that would have escaped his throat if he'd been the one to find this hidden treasure buried beneath the literary rubble. For a brief moment, she wished he didn't have a copy so she could give it to him for Christmas. Disappointed and amused at the same time, she returned the book to its place and continued looking through the piles.

About twenty minutes later, Rory began to feel guilty and forced herself away from the sale table. Not quite sure where to look next, she walked towards the register where the new bestsellers were stored and began to read their titles. She was lost in thought when a familiar voice uttering very atypical words drew her attention. She looked up and saw Kirk standing in front of the cash register, reading aloud from the back of a book.

"Unhappily married to a devoted, clumsy provincial doctor," he said deliberately as though carefully considering each word. "Emma revolts against the ordinariness of her life by pursuing voluptuous dreams of ecstasy and love. But her sensuous and sentimental desires lead her only to suffering corruption and downfall." 

_Madame Bovary_, Rory thought, recognizing the description right away. 

"Hmmm," Kirk contemplated. "I don't know. Let me see the other one again." 

Perplexed, Rory turned her eyes to the display in front of her but kept her ears carefully tuned into what Kirk was saying.

"The tale of a naïve young prostitute in bawdy eighteenth-century London who slowly rises to respectability..." he began, then paused. "Wait, it says this book was banned. Was this book ever banned?" Kirk inquired in his characteristic monotone. "I don't know if Mother would approve of me buying banned books." 

The young clerk shrugged, growing increasingly disinterested. 

"Well, Mother doesn't have to know," Kirk rationalized. "You won't tell her, will you?" 

"I don't even know your mother." 

"She doesn't leave the house much," Kirk explained. "Where's that third one?" 

The clerk impatiently handed him another paperback. 

Kirk flipped to the back cover. 

"Inspired by the long-standing affair between Frieda, Lawrence's German wife, and an Italian peasant who eventually became her third husband, Lady Chatterley's Lover is the story of Constance Chatterley, who, while trapped in an unhappy marriage to an aristocratic mine owner whose war wounds..." 

"Hey," Lane interrupted cheerily, startling Rory so that she almost tossed the book she'd been holding into the air.

"Oh, hey," Rory answered, focusing her attention on her best friend. 

"Whatcha doing?" Lane eyed her friend cautiously.

"Listening to Kirk," Rory said, gesturing towards the register. 

"Kirk?" 

"Yeah, I think he's buying something for his Giftee." 

"You were completely rapt because Kirk is buying a present for his Giftee?" Lane asked, clearly confused. 

"It's really weird," Rory explained. 

"Of course, it's weird; it's Kirk. I need details." 

"Ok, apparently, he wants to get his Giftee a book, and he's trying to decide between three choices." 

"Yeah?" 

"But these three choices are not the types of books you'd bring home to Tipper." 

"Bad?" 

"I'm amazed Taylor let those books get past the Stars Hollow Committee for the Eradication of Lewd Literature." 

"Wow! Are they really CELL-worthy?" 

"Actually, they're great books. Controversial but great. Not necessarily what you'd want to give to a Giftee, however." 

"I see," Lane said, nodding in understanding.

"You're carrying bags," Rory pointed out, gesturing to Lane's hands.

"I am," Lane proudly declared. "I think I can safely say that I will not be moving to Korea anytime soon." 

"You found something?" Rory asked, wide-eyed and excited.

"Somethings, to be exact. Plural something." 

"What? What'd you find?" Rory prodded like a small child.

"Ok, well, on my way to the music store, I stopped into Doose's," Lane began. "I was wandering the aisles, thinking about you and praying for something to save me from becoming a Korean Madeline. Unfortunately, I wasn't having much luck. But then I turned a corner, and there it was." With a dramatic pause, Lane reached into her bag and pulled out the first gift. "Ta-da: the classic LifeSavers Sweet Storybook." 

"Oh!" Rory said happily, taking the box from Lane's hand. "I always loved getting these when I was little." 

"Exactly!" Lane agreed. "It's simple. A nice way to ease your Giftee into the whole gift-receiving process. It's cheap. Everyone loves candy, and it will remind him of the bittersweet, simpler days of his youth when all he worried about was whether he'd get a lime or a cherry next." 

"I've grown to appreciate the lime now that I'm older," Rory noted.

"Yeah? I've always been a Butter Rum girl myself." 

"Thank you, Lane," Rory said with a smile. "It's perfect. Next, please." 

"Right. So I left Doose's and continued to the music store, and that's when I walked by the video store. All this time, we've been wondering what movies he likes, but it occurred to me that we were trying too hard." Reaching into the bag again, Lane pulled out a gift certificate for 5 free video rentals. 

"And they say two heads are better than one! I was definitely holding you back," Rory declared.

"Nah, we just needed some time to re-evaluate our options," Lane comforted her friend.

"What else did you find?" 

"Well, the third gift was much harder. I left the video store and kept heading towards the music store, and I was looking in every store window I passed. I glanced into the toy store, and I saw two parents actually wrestling on the ground over a toy. It was disgraceful," Lane said, shaking her head. "That's when I realized that people are just too greedy nowadays. No one gives back, you know? So I went into the toy store and bought a toy, which I promptly put in the big "Toys for Tots" bin that Taylor keeps by Doose's. So Shannon's third gift is a donation to Toys for Tots. If he can't appreciate that, then he didn't deserve a third gift anyway." 

"That was a great idea, Lane! Very philanthropic." 

"I thought so," Lane agreed. "So, after helping Shannon help others, I finally made it to the music store, and I'll have you know that I did not even go near the drums. I browsed the CDs, desperately searching for something for Shannon. And that's when I saw it." 

"It?" 

"This!" Lane said, holding up a CD.

"Radiohead?" 

"Yes, Radiohead. But not just any Radiohead album. _This_ was recorded live. It's a collector's item. I remembered overhearing Shannon in class one day, arguing with one of his friends about whether or not Radiohead is any good live. Shannon was claiming that they suck live, which is completely blasphemous. I tell you, it was hard to restrain myself from getting personally involved." 

"I'm proud of you." 

"Thank you," Lane answered. "So, anyway, when I saw this live album, I knew it was the gift for him. You'll be doing the public a service, Rory. That boy must be educated." 

"Then educate him, I will," Rory said, grinning. 

"So there you go," Lane stated proudly. "I know I only found four gifts, but can I stay in the country?" 

"It seems Korean boarding school will have to wait," Rory agreed with a wink. "At least until the next time you need threatening."

"Thank you!" Lane cheered, stretching out her arms and raising them upwards.

Suddenly, Rory's grin turned into a frown. "Oh man!" 

"What?" Lane asked, concerned.

"Now I feel guilty." 

"Guilty?" 

"Yes. I'm a horrible Secret Santa. You picked out all of these gifts. I did nothing. I put no thought into the gift-buying whatsoever." 

"This isn't 'Gift of the Magi,' Rory. I don't think Shannon will be offended that personal sacrifice wasn't involved." 

"I can keep my hair?" Rory asked, smiling again.

"Your beautiful brown cascade can remain," Lane assented. "Besides, this means that, despite my mother's adamant refusal, I have officially participated in the Stars Hollow Secret Santa festivities." 

"That you have," Rory agreed. "Rebellion is really starting to suit you." 

"I'm starting to look like Gloria Steinem?" 

"I definitely see a resemblance. Hey," Rory continued, changing the subject. "I see another bag." 

"Oh this?" Lane said, eyeing the bag she held in her hand before nonchalantly moving it behind her back. "It's nothing." 

"Nothing? It's a rather large bag for nothing, and it looks kind of heavy," Rory noted.

"Did you see that bootleg copy of the Bangles in the music store earlier?" Lane asked in an attempt to redirect the conversation. "I bet your mom would love it." 

"Na-uh, Lane Kim. Spill." 

Sighing, Lane handed Rory the bag and watched as she peered inside. Glancing up at Lane with a small smile, Rory pulled a large book from the brown paper bag. "The Beatles Anthology, huh? Don't you already have a copy of this?" 

"It isn't for me," Lane said simply.

"No?" Rory asked, feigning innocence. "Well, then, whomever could it be for?" 

"Fake naiveté masking subtle sarcasm. Your resemblance to your mother is really becoming uncanny, you know that?" 

"She taught me well," Rory agreed. "Let's see," she continued, pondering for a second. "After the casual mention of the suspect item and the innocent questioning, comes the relentless guessing game." 

"Oh no," Lane groaned.

"Is it for your mother?" Rory fired.

"My mother?" Lane repeated in amazement.

"Right. Your mother seems more like an Elvis fan," Rory said, concealing her laughter. "How about…" 

"This is frightening. Did you just channel Lorelai into your body? I didn't see a séance, but I _was_ briefly distracted." 

Ignoring Lane's comment, Rory continued. "You keep mentioning my mother. Trickery perhaps? Is it for my mother?" 

"It's not for your mother," Lane said calmly.

"Taylor?" 

"No." 

"Luke?" 

"Nope." 

"Miss Patty?" 

Lane shook her head.

"Well, that leaves… me. Aw, Lane, you shouldn't have." 

"Rory, stop," Lane pleaded.

Growing serious, Rory looked at her friend closely. "Is it for Dave?" 

"Yes, yes! It is for Dave! Geez!" Lane said a little too loudly, causing some of the bookstore customers to glance at them.

Rory lowered her voice. "Why didn't you want to tell me?" 

"I thought verbal torture seemed like more fun?" 

"Lane?" she said softly.

"Because I'll probably just return it anyway." 

"Why would you return it?" 

"Because he probably doesn't even like the Beatles. I've been looking all week for a gift for him. I've bought and returned no less than 10 items. I finally find something, and I think it's perfect," Lane rambled quickly. "Then I bring it home, and it's either too much or too little – too silly or too serious – too boring – too expensive – too romantic – not romantic enough. And then I think, 'Why are you thinking about romance, Lane? You don't even know if he likes you!' Then, I begin to doubt that I should even be buying him a Christmas present. But I really want to buy him a Christmas present," Lane ended.

"He likes you," Rory said simply and with complete sincerity.

"You think so?" Lane asked, a look of excited expectation flashing across her face.

"I know so." 

"And that?" Lane asked, pointing towards the book still in Rory's hands.

"This," Rory said, bending her elbow to hold the book up a little, "is perfect. He'll love it." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"It's not too expensive?" 

"Lane, if you return this book, I will be forced to lock you in a room with a Celine Dion CD as your only companion." 

"I'm keeping the book," Lane stated, grabbing it from Rory's hands and returning it to the bag. "Thanks, Rory," she said quietly, looking up at her friend.

"You're welcome." 

"I won't even make you pay me for the LifeSavers Sweet Storybook." 

"Oh, no! I didn't choose the gifts, but I'm going to pay for them!" Rory pledged.

"See, your morals are still intact. Where to now? Any ideas for the last gift?" 

Rory glanced at her watch. "Actually, I'm supposed to be meeting my mom at Luke's for some mid-Christmas shopping replenishment." 

"Sounds good," Lane remarked. "Let's go." 

As they moved to the door, Rory glanced at the register.

"He's still there!" she proclaimed.

Lane glanced over at Kirk. "Wow! He must really want to get the right book." 

They both paused so they could hear what he was reading.

"… tells the story of the aging Humbert Humbert's obsessive, devouring, and doomed passion for the nymphet Dolores Haze." 

"Is that Lolita?" Lane whispered.

"Yup," Rory replied.

Kirk handed the book back to the now-exasperated clerk. "No, these aren't sexy enough," he said calmly. "Do you have anything sexier?" 

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Lane asked, wide-eyed.

"Oh, my God!" Rory answered, giggling.

"Your mom is gonna die when we tell her about this!" 

"Poor Kirk," Rory murmured in sympathy as they hurried out the door for Luke's before they forgot a single detail.

***

Rory and Lane walked into Luke's and immediately saw Lorelai sitting at the counter, a giant cup of steaming coffee in front of her. They quickly joined her, Rory sitting to her left and Lane sitting to Rory's other side. Rory turned to her mother and was just opening her mouth to say something when she noticed the big, mischievous grin on Lorelai's face. Turning her head to follow her mother's intent gaze, Rory's eye fell on Jess. 

He was standing with his back to her, very apparently struggling with the toaster. Rory immediately sensed his frustration and knew that the fight had been going on for some time. As she watched, Jess glanced back at them and realized his audience had grown. He jerked the screwdriver one more time and then nodded his head in satisfaction. 

Picking up two pieces of bread, he shoved them into the toaster and pushed the lever that would lower them to be heated. He released the lever, and the two pieces of bread immediately shot back up out of the toaster and into the air. Jess stretched out his arm and snagged the bread before it hit the floor. 

"And there they are again," Lorelai chimed, smiling wickedly. Turning to her daughter and Lane, she said knowingly, "Jess is training to be the next David Blaine. He just perfected an amazing new trick: Boomerang Toast. Given how many times he's demonstrated this fantastical feat, I suspect he's very proud of it. I, however, will not be impressed until the toast actually propels itself through the air and hits someone in the forehead." Turning back to Jess, she encouraged sweetly, "Keep working on it, Jess. I just know you'll get it down soon." 

Rory shot her mom an amused look and then glanced at Jess. He threw the screwdriver down on the counter and sighed. She could've sworn she saw his cheeks turn a light shade of red, but he skillfully suppressed any embarrassment and turned to face them.

"Coffee?" he asked nonchalantly, ignoring Lorelai and looking to Rory and Lane.

"Yes, please," Rory answered, giving him a sympathetic smile.

"Can I get a Coke?" Lane asked.

"Jess. Oh, Jess!" Lorelai sang in her best Southern accent. "Would it be too much to ask for some toast?" 

He rolled his eyes and turned to get the drinks.

As Jess set the Coke in front of Lane and began to pour Rory a generous cup of coffee, Luke walked in, carrying the mail. "Package for you, Jess." 

Jess raised an eyebrow and set the coffeepot down. Wordlessly, he accepted the small package, scarcely bigger than his palm.

"Your Secret Santa?" Lorelai asked.

"Must be," Jess said tersely. There were no identifying marks on the box, save Jess's name. Jess popped the lid off the box and removed some tissue paper. 

"What the hell?" he wondered aloud. He reached his hand into the box and looped the gift over his index finger. When he lifted his hand, he revealed a pair of handcuffs, dangling in the air above the box.

Rory and Lorelai giggled when they caught sight of the present. Jess dropped the box on the counter and continued staring, perplexed, at the unusual gift.

"Hey, there's a note in the box," Rory stated. She removed the piece of paper and read it aloud. "Get used to the feel of these." 

"Ooh, Jess!" Lorelai cooed. "Kinky! Looks like you've got a secret admirer!" 

"Oh my God!" Lane choked on her Coke while everyone else, except for Jess, burst out laughing. Jess, on the other hand, stood staring at the gift, still confused and just a little bit embarrassed.

Miss Patty sidled up to the counter just then. "Can I get some coffee, Pet? Nice present," she appraised languidly, her gaze trailing up and down Jess's body and making him even more uncomfortable. Jess palmed the handcuffs in his hand and attempted to hide them from sight. "Oh, don't look so bashful, Sugar," Miss Patty went on. "I always wanted Santa to bring _me_ one of those. Oh well," she sighed. Then, as Jess was pouring her coffee, she leaned in closer and drawled in a quiet, naughty tone, "If you need someone to help you with yours, I'm available." 

***

"OK. That was just too weird," Lorelai stated as she and Rory walked up their walkway.

"What's so weird about it? Accidents happen." 

"Yeah, but did you see the look on her face when it happened?" 

"She was very apologetic." 

"Apologetic, yes. But her eyes said, 'Ha ha! I've got you now, My Pretty!'" 

"Mom, Miss Patty did not spill her coffee on you on purpose." Rory rolled her eyes as the two stepped into their front hallway. 

"I'm not so sure." 

"You live in your world; I'll live in mine." Rory shrugged and hung up their coats as her mother began stripping herself of her coffee-stained blouse. "Upstairs, please," Rory ordered distastefully.

Lorelai rambled on, heading up the stairs. "'Oh dear,' Patty says. 'Now you'll have to go home and change,' she says." 

"Did I mention my world is based on reality?" Rory elaborated.

Lorelai paused at the first landing, seemingly not having heard Rory at all. "And what was with that whole 'You should wear your black dress with the slit on the side' thing? Since when do I get fashion pointers from Miss Patty?" 

"Well, she does have a point; that dress looks phenomenal on you." 

Lorelai momentarily set aside her paranoia. "Yeah, you know. It does. It's classy but not over the top. A little bit 'Hot mama' and a little bit 'What? This old thing?' Love that dress." 

"You should wear it." 

"You know, I should," Lorelai agreed. "Just to spite her." 

Rory chuckled and settled herself on the couch where she had started wrapping presents earlier. Now, thanks to Lane, she had gifts to wrap for Shannon. She was holding slippery paper under two fingers and awkwardly tearing off a strip of scotch tape when her mother came back downstairs. "Hey, you put on the dress," Rory stated, glancing up at Lorelai.

"Yeah. Well, getting coffee dumped on me sucked, and nothing can cheer up a girl like a sexy outfit!" 

"Hear, hear! Mom, I think this paper is winning," she added as the wrapping paper she'd carefully folded sprung from her fingers just as she was about to adhere tape to it. Lorelai came over to help, and the two soon made light work of the wrapping.

"You sure have a lot of presents here, Missy," Lorelai commented as they finished up the chore.

"Some of these are for my Giftee." 

"Anything here for me?" Lorelai asked as she eyed the presents that Rory had already wrapped before she'd come downstairs.

"I'm not crazy. Your presents are already hidden." 

The doorbell rang. As Lorelai stood to answer it, she added, "Yeah, cause you know how much fun I have tearing the house apart looking for them! You're so thoughtful!" 

Lorelai opened the door to the sight of a man holding a bouquet of flowers. "Lorelai Gilmore?" 

"Oh! Yes, that's me." 

"Hi. Oh! These are for you." The man held the flowers out for her. By this time, Rory had followed her mother into the hall.

"Damn, you gotta love Secret Santas," Lorelai murmured, accepting the flowers gratefully. "These are gorgeous. Who are they from, do you know?" Rory, in turn, took the bouquet off her mother's hands and deeply inhaled the fresh scent.

"From me," the man stated.

"Um, yes, but who ordered them?" Rory and Lorelai exchanged an amused look. This guy was so literal; Rory had to wonder if he'd been taking lessons from Kirk.

"I did." 

"You?" Lorelai asked again, still not quite understanding.

"Yes." 

"Um. Maybe I'm forgetting something. Um… Who are you?" 

"Brad. Your date." 

"My…?" Lorelai gaped at him. The Gilmores then noticed how well dressed the man was. This was no ordinary delivery boy; and, in her hot little number of a dress, Lorelai's looks complemented his nicely.

And that was the moment when Rory realized that Miss Patty LaCosta was her mother's Secret Santa. She'd been wrong, the coffee spillage hadn't been an accident. The smirk grew on her lips. Another look at Lorelai's eyes revealed Lorelai knew it as well. "Oh God," Lorelai muttered under her breath, as she slowly, draggingly, grabbed her coat and purse.

"Don't stay out too late, you crazy love birds," Rory teased as Brad led her mother down the walkway. Lorelai was frantically making phone gestures with her hand and mouthing "Save me." 

"Don't worry. I'll put these flowers in water," Rory offered cheekily. Shaking her head, she shut the door and burst out laughing.

After cleaning up the bits of scrap paper from the coffee table and surrounding floor, Rory went into her room and turned on the light. Glancing up, she was surprised to see a parcel propped up against her window, wrapped in pretty partridge and pear foil and addressed to her. She smiled. Finally, her own Secret Santa had struck.

Rory slid the window up and plucked the small package off the sill. Once the gift was safely in her room, she closed the window quickly to avoid letting in too much of the frigid December air; however, not before she surreptitiously scanned the yard for the deliverer of her package.

Not seeing anyone, she turned away from the window and tore into the wrapping. She had been able to tell from the weight and shape of the package that it was a book, but her excitement dwindled as two words met her eyes: Ernest Hemingway. Shoulders drooping, she sighed. _Well_, she decided. _At least my Secret Santa tried. Whoever it is knows that I like to read, but obviously they don't know that I think Hemingway is as dry as dust. _

She stood from the bed where she'd sat down to open the gift and walked over to file the book on her shelf. However, just as she was about to slide it in between two other "reject" books, her eyes fell on the title: The Garden of Eden. She paused. The title was unfamiliar. Granted, her dislike for Hemingway wasn't exactly conducive to being familiar with his writings. She did know his major works - A Farewell to Arms, The Old Man and the Sea, For Whom the Bell Tolls - but definitely not The Garden of Eden. Curious, she flipped the book over and silently read the back.

"A sensational bestseller when it appeared in 1986, The Garden of Eden is the last uncompleted novel of Ernest Hemingway, which he worked on intermittently from 1946 until his death in 1961. Set on the Côte d'Azur in the 1920s, it is the story of a young American writer, David Bourne, his glamorous wife, Catherine, and the dangerous, erotic game they play when they fall in love with the same woman." 

_Fall in love with the same woman?_ Rory, her eyes bugging out, flipped the book to the front cover and read the name of the author over and over again. It definitely said Ernest Hemingway, but the book sure didn't sound like a Hemingway novel. Still standing in front of her bookcase, Rory opened the book to the first page and began reading. 

"They were living at le Grau du Roi then, and the hotel was on a canal that ran from the walled city of Aigues Mortes straight down to the sea. They could see the towers of Aigues Mortes across the low plain of the Camargue, and they rode there on their bicycles at some time of nearly every day along the white road that bordered the canal. In the evenings and the mornings, when there was a rising tide, sea bass would come into it – " 

Rory smirked and rolled her eyes. _Nope, this is definitely Hemingway._ Growing bored, she skipped ahead a few pages and stopped on page 17. Her eyes fell halfway down the page, and she started half-heartedly reading the middle of a paragraph. 

"'Please love me, David, the way I am. Please understand and love me.' He had shut his eyes, and he could feel the long, light weight of her on him, and her breasts pressing against him, and her lips on his." 

Rory felt her cheeks growing red, but she kept reading. "He lay there and felt something and then her hand holding him and searching lower, and he helped with his hands and then lay back in the dark and did not think at all and only felt the weight and the strangeness inside, and she said, 'Now you can't tell who is who, can you?" 

Rory stopped reading and glanced around as though she'd been caught doing something illegal. Of course, there was no one. She began to wonder in earnest who her Secret Santa could be. This book was definitely an unusual Secret Santa gift. It was too – too – racy. Gasping, Rory's thoughts jumped back to the bookstore. _My Secret Santa couldn't be Kirk, could it?_ She pondered the possibility for a second and then disregarded it. This was just a coincidence. Her Secret Santa probably saw 'Hemingway,' thought 'classic,' and bought it for her without any ulterior motives. In the process, they'd managed to find the most un-Hemingway Hemingway possible. She was almost impressed.

Forgetting about her Santa, she looked back down at the book. She hesitated briefly, and then, moving to sit on her bed with her back resting comfortably against her pillow, she turned back to page one and began to read. 

***

Please review!

This story is a **collaborative effort** between MahliaLily (http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788) and CircleSky.


	3. And the Hen Said, 'Parlez Vous Francais?...

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.

**A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol**

**CHAPTER 3: And the Hen Said, "Parlez-Vous Français?"**

"Dean! Come here!" Clara called out excitedly.

"What do you want?" Dean called back. He was snuggled under his quilt on a holiday morning, and there was very little that his younger sister could do or say to drag him out of bed.

"You have gifts here. Lots of them!" she said. 

The meaning of her words slowly registered itself in his conscious mind, thereby igniting an internal struggle. Dean stretched out on the mattress, caught somewhere between blissful relaxation and burning curiosity. Soon, however, curiosity won out, and Dean pushed down the blankets, a cold chill breaching his happy cocoon. Dean sighed, swung his long legs off the bed, and stuck his feet in slippers so he wouldn't have to touch the hardwood floor downstairs.

"Where are you?" he asked as he plodded down the stairs.

"In the kitchen."

Dean hit the hardwood then, his slippers making scuffling, thwacking noises with each step he took. "What gifts? Whoa…" He silenced her from answering his question when he walked around the corner into the kitchen, his still-bleary eyes widening at the sight of a whole spread of baked goods covering much of the kitchen table. "What's all this?"

"It's from your Secret Santa."

"Wow," Dean said, impressed. "Wait. _All_ of this is for me?" 

"Yup. Can I have one of your cookies?" she asked, referring to the three-dozen rocky road and peanut butter cookies stacked in open Tupperware containers. The cookies were centered among three equally tempting cakes: angel food cake with vanilla frosting and shaved chocolate garnishes, a chocolate and vanilla marbled cheesecake, and a dark chocolate cake surrounded by a base of raspberries.

"Oh. Uh. Sure. Have as many as you want," Dean said dazedly. He would definitely need help eating all of these desserts. Dean had liked his first gift as well - a DVD copy of _The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring_ - but, this time, his Secret Santa had gone above and beyond the call of duty. There were several hours worth of baking sitting right here on his kitchen table.

"Yahoo!" Clara grinned as she grabbed a handful of cookies.

"How did all this stuff get here?"

"She brought them over," Clara admitted, too busy licking chocolate off her fingertips to notice what she'd revealed about his Secret Santa's identity. Clara took off for the living room with her cookies.

"'She', huh?" he said, as he plucked a rocky road cookie off of the pile. The scrumptious morsel tasted as good as it looked. In fact, the desserts all looked so good that, although Dean felt certain that everything was homemade, it all could have easily come from Fran's Bakery. Rory always said Fran's had the best cakes in town. Dean smiled as he recalled the first conversation he'd ever had with Rory. That day, she'd babbled nervously about the delicious "round" cakes at Fran's. It had been so cute.

Dean polished off his first cookie and reached for another one. Rocky road was, by far, Dean's favourite type of cookie. Rory, who knew this, had occasionally made batches of the delicacy for him in the past. His Secret Santa used a recipe very much like the one Rory sometimes used. 

Come to think of it, his Secret Santa had also taken the time to bake him cakes, all of them being _round_ cakes. Dean smiled. Rory wasn't usually much for cooking, but she'd surprised him before by making him a home-cooked meal à la Donna Reed. He now knew she had the capacity for it. The rocky road cookies, the round cakes, the sheer volume and loving care taken in preparing this gift… 

And even the "Lord of the Rings" DVD. Rory knew, perhaps better than anyone, how much he loved that movie. He'd even mentioned to her, before, that he'd like to get it on DVD. The more Dean thought about it, the more he thought that his Secret Santa could very well be Rory. Certainly, no one but Rory loved him enough to put this much effort into his gift.

Dean grabbed a knife and plate and cut into the angel food cake. "Who did you say my Secret Santa was?" Dean called out to his sister, sussing slyly.

"Ha! I'm not telling!" she called back from the living room.

But it didn't matter. Dean smiled again. He already knew; it was none other than his beloved Rory.

***

"Rise and shine, Sleepy Head."

"Muh," Rory mumbled from beneath her bedspread.

"I'm sorry," Lorelai answered. "I don't think I understand 'muh.' Does that mean 'Go away' or 'Just a second' or maybe 'Man, my mom has _such_ a beautiful voice'?"

"Leave me alone," Rory moaned.

"Duly noted. 'Muh' means 'Leave me alone.' Now that I have that all figured out, I guess I'll just take this nice package that the UPS man brought for you and keep it for myself."

Lorelai started to walk out of the room but glanced back just in time to see Rory peek one eye above the blanket to look at her. 

Squinting in an effort to see her mother's hands, Rory asked accusingly, "Is that just a ploy to get me out of bed or did I really get a package?"

"I don't know," Lorelai said with a shrug. "Guess you'll just have to come into the kitchen and see." Without another word, Lorelai rushed from the room.

"Evil!" Rory yelled as she dragged herself out of bed and into the kitchen.

"Not so evil," Lorelai stated from her seat at the kitchen table. "There really is a package." She shoved it towards Rory. 

Now wide-awake, Rory sat down and drew the cardboard box closer. She looked at the return address. "Gevalia?"

Lorelai shrugged. "Open it!"

"Okay, okay," Rory mumbled. Grabbing a pair of scissors, she cut into the tape along the seam of the box and opened it up. Lying on top of the contents was a letter. Rory picked it up and skimmed the words. "Gevalia is a gourmet coffee and tea company," she explained. "My Secret Santa got me a membership to a coffee-of-the-month club."

"Really?" Lorelai asked, rising to look over Rory's shoulder. "That must've cost a fortune."

"I know," Rory said in agreement.

"Well, what'd we get this month?"

Rory pushed aside the packing peanuts and pulled out two smaller packages. "Um," she said, looking at the label on the plastic, airtight-sealed bag of coffee. "Looks like December gets us Royal Vinter coffee. What's Royal Vinter coffee?" she inquired.

"I don't know," Lorelai answered. "But let's get that baby percolating." She grabbed the bag out of Rory's hand and walked towards the coffeepot. "What's the other package?"

"Ooh, chocolate truffles," Rory cheered.

"Chocolate?" Lorelai repeated. "I think I like your Secret Santa."

"Me too," Rory agreed, extending the box of candy to her mother.

***

"Lucas Danes?" inquired the man at the counter.

Jess turned around and looked at the man, recognizing his brown uniform immediately. "No, thank God," Jess drawled sarcastically. Then, he scanned the diner and, locating his uncle at a far table, called out, "Hey Lucas! There's a man here to see you."

Luke looked up, annoyed, but his expression quickly changed when he saw that it was a perfectly harmless UPS man. He walked briskly to the counter.

"I'm Luke."

"Ah, great!" the UPS man replied. "Just sign here, and it's all yours."

"It?" Luke asked as he signed the paper.

"This," the man replied, hoisting a heavy, medium-sized cardboard box onto the counter. "Merry Christmas!"

"Yeah, Merry Christmas," Luke mumbled. He and Jess were both staring at the box with identical fearful expressions.

"Secret Santa?" Jess asked.

"I imagine so."

"What do you think is gonna jump out of there when you open it?"

"I have no idea," Luke answered worriedly.

"Maybe you should open it?" Jess hesitantly suggested, instinctively backing away.

"Or not." They both stared at the package some more.

"Are you going to open it?" Jess asked again. "After all, your first gift _was_ a flannel shirt. Pretty tame."

"Yeah, but that could have been an attempt to lull me into a false sense of security."

"Point taken," Jess concurred.

"Just open it, boys!" Miss Patty yelled from a nearby table. "Some of us are _very_ curious."

Luke frowned, then sighed, and then moved to get a knife. He sliced through the tape with ease, and then, after staring at the box a little longer, he slowly lifted the flaps, bracing himself for the worst.

When there were no popping noises or explosions, he breathed a sigh of relief and looked directly into the box. Now smiling, he lifted the gift out of the packaging. "It's a toaster," he said. "Hey, I got a new toaster!" There was a chorus of cheers from Miss Patty and the other patrons.

"Nice," Jess remarked, silently thanking Luke's Secret Santa for relieving him of Lorelai's constant toaster torture.

"I'm gonna set this up! You!" Luke barked at Jess, regaining his composure. "Go take orders!"

***

"Luke! Luke!!!" Lorelai yelled before she'd even made it completely through the door to the diner. "Coffee! Quick!"

"What?" Luke asked, turning away from the new toaster, bewildered by the sudden interruption.

"Didn't you hear the lady?" Rory asked with uncharacteristic impatience. "She said coffee! Hurry! On the double!"

"Snappy, snappy!" Lorelai encouraged as she plopped onto a stool at the counter.

"What's the emergency?" he inquired as he reached for the pot of coffee.

"Geez, you move like an old man!" Lorelai complained.

"Stop with the compliments or I might start looking a lot like a slow-motion movie," he warned.

"Don't you dare!" she chastised.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Coffee," she uttered, cringing.

"Bad coffee," Rory elaborated from the stool next to Lorelai.

"Horrible coffee," Lorelai bemoaned.

"The worst!" Rory agreed.

Luke looked at them curiously as he filled their mugs. "Huh?"

As soon as the cups were full, both women snatched them up and hungrily gulped from them. After a moment, Lorelai set hers back down on the counter. "Finally! The taste is gone."

"The taste?" Luke asked.

"The putrid taste of Royal Vinter coffee! I don't know who or what Royal Vinter is, but someone needs to sue him – them – it."

"What are you talking about?"

Finally relaxing as her taste buds were saved, Rory took pity on Luke and explained, "I got a gift from my Secret Santa."

"Her evil, evil Secret Santa," Lorelai interrupted.

"My Secret Santa got me a membership to Gevalia's coffee-of-the-month club. So we decided to try it out this morning." Rory took another gulp of Luke's precious coffee and felt the ordeal ebb like a distant memory.

"Bad, bad idea," Lorelai moaned.

"Very bad."

"We're talking worse than decaf here."

"It wasn't pretty. It smelled good, but apparently smells can be deceiving because Mom took a sip and started flipping out. She tried washing her mouth out with water, but the taste was still there. So then she ran to the box of truffles that I got with the coffee and grabbed one, thinking it would counteract the taste. But she accidentally grabbed one of the dark chocolates."

"It tasted like coffee!" Lorelai cried.

"You like coffee," Luke pointed out.

"Bad coffee. It tasted like Royal Vinter coffee."

"I didn't think it could possibly be that bad," Rory continued. "So I tried some of the coffee. It was _that_ bad."

"You shouldn't have doubted me. I was trying to protect my poor baby from the trauma," Lorelai said, rubbing Rory's back comfortingly. 

"I'll never doubt you again," Rory replied, punctuating her declaration with a slash of her open fist. "Anyway, all we could think to do was to run here and get some of your coffee. We were praying it'd be enough."

"You ran here?" Luke asked in amazement.

"You should've seen us! Jackie Joyner-Kersee would've been eating our dust," Rory said proudly.

"Thank God the membership is only three months," Lorelai sighed.

"Who cares how long the membership is," Luke said. "You don't have to drink it again."

"And waste coffee?!?" Lorelai asked, astonished. "That'd be wrong."

"If I ever start to think like you two, would you please put a bullet in me?" Luke pleaded.

"It'd be our pleasure," Lorelai assented. "Now fill 'er up!"

Smiling despite himself, Luke refilled Lorelai's cup and then moved to pour more coffee into Rory's.

"Oh, hey, Luke," Rory began. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Well, I've been having trouble figuring out what to give my Giftee. I finally have four gifts, but I need one more. I thought about it, and since everyone loves to eat here –"

"Very good, honey. Compliment the man," Lorelai interrupted in between savoury mouthfuls of Luke's medicinal coffee. "Always works."

Luke shot Lorelai a look and then turned his attention back to Rory.

"Anyway," Rory continued. "I know you don't usually do this, but I was wondering if I could somehow give my Giftee a certificate for here. It doesn't have to be anything big. Anything at all will do," Rory rambled.

"Sure," Luke answered easily.

"Sure?" Rory asked.

"Yeah, whatever you want."

"Thanks, Luke! That's so nice of you."

"I don't really have certificates just lying around," Luke added, deflecting the compliment.

"Oh, right," Rory agreed.

"But I'm sure we can figure out something. Jess!" he yelled.

Jess looked up from the nearby table, which he'd been clearing. "Yeah?"

"Come over here and help Rory." Then, turning back to the younger Gilmore, Luke said softly, "Whatever you want, just tell Jess, and he can write out a certificate for you."

"Thanks, Luke!" Rory said again, gratefully.

Luke smiled and walked over to serve other customers. 

Lorelai rose and followed him. "Hey Luke. Can I get a certificate for free food too?" she asked sweetly. "This place just has the best food ever. And, as a loyal customer, I think I deserve a free meal. Luke. Please Luke. You don't want me to think you love Rory more than me, do you? Pretty please."

Rory watched her mother hanging off of Luke's arm, begging for free food, until Jess came and sat beside her. Rory turned her twinkling eyes from her mother's antics to her friend instead.

"Hey."

"Hey," she answered.

"So I couldn't help but overhear. Bad coffee, huh?"

"Yeah, awful coffee!" Rory shuddered at the memory.

"Huh," he said, nodding casually while trying very hard to suppress a smirk.

"I think it gave my mom and me a newfound appreciation for Luke's coffee."

"Never a bad thing," Jess replied.

"Nope," Rory agreed.

"So you needed something?"

"Oh yeah. Luke said you could write me a certificate to give to my Giftee."

"Luke's giving out free food now? He must really like you."

"He's just being nice."

"I guess," Jess said, smiling at her in a way that immediately caused butterflies to take flight in her stomach. 

Rory broke their gaze and looked into her coffee cup, suddenly fascinated by its brown liquid contents.

Grinning at her sudden shyness, Jess looked away and ripped a piece of paper off of his order pad. "Okay, so, what fabulous diner entrée would you like to bestow upon your Giftee?" he asked.

"Oh, um," she mumbled, looking back up at him. "I guess I don't know. Maybe just a free dinner. Even though Luke didn't say so, I doubt he'd want to give more than that, and it's better to leave it open-ended, right?"

"Sounds good to me," he answered, turning his eyes to the paper as he scribbled on it. "So," he began as he continued to write. "Who is this lucky Giftee anyway?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Rory slyly replied.

Jess stilled his hand and looked up. "No? Well, I hope it isn't me because I get to eat this slop for free already."

"It isn't you," Rory assured him.

"But you won't tell me?"

"No, it's supposed to be a secret. Besides, how do I know I can trust you?"

"You can trust me," he said seriously, meeting her eyes with his own. "Are these the eyes of a non-trustworthy person?"

She was silent a moment as she got caught up in the intensity of his gaze. _He has the most amazing brown eyes_. Snapping herself out of the daze, she looked away. "No, but even so."

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me."

"Good," she said, lightening the mood. "Because, you know, if I tell you, that means you have to tell me who you have."

"Well, now, I'm not gonna do that," he joked.

"See, so it's better this way." She paused as she watched him turn back to the piece of paper. "What was with the handcuffs?"

"I have no idea," he said honestly. "Obviously someone in this town has a strange sense of humour. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn't really narrow down the possibilities." 

"I guess not," Rory agreed. "What else did you get?"

"Are you serious? You think I'm gonna open myself up for public humiliation?"

"I won't laugh, I promise," she swore.

Jess peered up at her under a raised eyebrow. "I don't believe you for a second." Then, after a pause, he shifted awkwardly. "I got a copy of the Stars Hollow Blue Book Laws."

"Yeah?" Rory inquired. "Was there a note?"

Jess sighed. "All it said was: 'I know a bad boy when I see one. If you're going to break these, there will be repercussions.'"

Rory smiled a little.

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" Jess accused.

"A laugh and a smile are two very different things, Mr. Mariano. I'm simply smiling. But I will say, sounds like your Secret Santa sure wants to discipline you," she teased, the smile glowing on her face now.

"Stop!" he said weakly. "By the way, have you ever looked at some of the crazy rules in that book? There's actually a law that says it's illegal to hold hands with swine in public."

"That was a recent addition," Rory said, nodding seriously. "See, Bootsie found a stray pig wandering the streets, and he –"

Jess held up his hand, thereby interrupting her. "I don't want to know." Rory's eyes shone as she laughed.

"Well," he said reluctantly, handing her the piece of paper. "I guess I should get back to work."

"Right. Thanks, Jess, for doing this."

"You're welcome, Rory. Oh, don't tell Luke about the last part," he added, referring to the certificate.

Rory smiled at him as he walked towards a table full of customers. Then, curious, she read what he'd written on the paper. "This certificate entitles you to a free dinner at Luke's Diner courtesy of your Secret Santa. Coffee and dessert included." Glancing back up at him, she blushed slightly. Apparently, Luke wasn't the only member of the Danes clan with a carefully concealed soft side.

***

Later that night, Jess was slumped over the kitchen table, propped up by his elbows, his head merely a foot above the piece of paper. His one hand lay flat on the page; his other gripped a pen. He would have been deep in concentration, if Luke hadn't been strutting around the apartment like John Travolta.

"You know, the whole Secret Santa thing, it's really a science," Luke spouted off, his voice growing muffled as he carried Jess's books across the apartment into the next room and dropped them, unceremoniously, somewhere in the vicinity of Jess's bed. "You visualize the gift the person would like to receive – you say to yourself 'what gift does this person _need_?' - and then you make it a reality. It sounds difficult, but if you do it right - if you listen to your head and heart - it really comes easily."

Jess rolled his widened eyes and leaned further forward to cup his forehead in his hand. He prayed that Luke would be done singing his own praises soon so he could get a little work done.

Jess sighed when Luke went on. "You just need to put a little thought into it. A little effort."

When Luke seemed to silence himself at last, Jess, eyes wide with disbelief, gave a quick shake of his head and dismissed Luke's speech. There were a few choice words he could utter in response, but he didn't want to disrupt his thought process any further.

Jess turned his attention back to the writing in front of him. He knew what he was trying to say with the piece, what ideas he was trying to convey. Phrasing it properly was a little bit tougher, and it took all of his concentration. 

_If I compare her to a star,_ Jess formulated, _I could say she's on the celestial plane… above the earth…_ Jess was in the process of mentally articulating that concept when Luke spoke again, and, like sand through his fingertips, Jess lost his tenuous grip on his thoughts.

"I'm on a roll," Luke boasted. "You could learn a thing or two from me, Jess."

Finally, Jess had had enough. "Oh please. You got your Giftee a Chia Head! It's hardly the height of creativity. I'm pretty sure no one's gonna base a self-help book on your shopping skills. Not even a Shopping for Dummies. Now, could you please let those of us who are _actually_ investing some brain activity in the gift-giving process concentrate? Hmmm?"

"Geez, did you buy your Calvins one size too small or something?"

Jess pointed at Luke and took on an air of helpfulness that barely masked the sarcasm rooted beneath it. "Non-fitting Calvins. Yeah, you can add that to your Christmas shopping list. I'm sure your Giftee would love 'em."

"Are you implying that I'm not putting any effort into the gifts I buy?"

"Implying, no. Stating forthrightly, yes. At least _I'm_ personalizing my gift." Jess nodded towards the page in front of him. That was Jess's first mistake.

"That's it," Luke bellowed. Quick as lightning, Luke grabbed the paper off the table as Jess scrambled, unsuccessfully, to snatch it back. 

"What are you writing here, anyway?" Luke prodded, not waiting for Jess's response before reading the words scrawled on the page. Jess jumped up from his chair, and Luke turned away from him.

"She exists on a plane that's far above me; a person beyond what I've aspired to be," Luke read aloud as he and Jess played a violent game of keep-away. They paid no attention to the end table they'd bumped or the lamp thereby slowly wobbling. "You're writing poetry!" Luke laughed, clearly amused, not only by the writing itself but also by Jess's response to him reading it.

"Gimme that!" Jess begged in a forceful tone, jumping to reach the paper over Luke's shoulder.

"Who's your Giftee? Who's this for?"

"It's not for anybody." Jess spun Luke's torso around and reached for the paper again. Luke switched it to his other hand in the nick of time.

"You just said you were 'personalizing your gift' so who are you giving this to?" He paused briefly. "Jess!" Luke said incredulously, as though the answer just occurred to him. "Do you have a _girlfriend_?" Jess tackled Luke to the floor then, Luke's laughter only serving to heighten Jess's ire. "Okay! Okay!" Luke conceded, as he was now lying flat on his back. "I obviously don't care about Secret Santas as much as you do." Luke thrust the poem at Jess at last.

Jess clutched the paper gratefully, paying no mind to the way it crumpled in his fist. He was relieved that Luke would no longer be reading it, but he knew the teasing had only just begun. Maybe Jess should have been more blasé about Luke reading the poem. It would have been easier to deal with the teasing if he hadn't shown how important the poem was. That had been Jess's second mistake.

"Jess in love! That's so cute!" Luke enthused from his position sprawled on the living room floor. With one final parting glance at a chuckling Luke, Jess, poem and pen in hand, high-tailed it out of the apartment before he could make any other mistakes in the heat of the moment.

***

Please review!

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.


	4. What is it with Chicks and Phones?

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.

**A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol**

**CHAPTER 4: What is it with Chicks and Phones?**

Finishing a chapter, Jess stuffed the well-worn copy of Fahrenheit 451 into his back pocket and then pulled his coat snug as he weaved his way through the lazy Sunday strollers on the sidewalk. Every single person he passed was bundled up in a wool hat, muffler, and mittens, and all of them had big 'ole "Season's Greetings" grins on their faces. Quite a few of them were carrying bags containing purchases that would, no doubt, end up under somebody's Christmas tree. 

_It's busy downtown today_, Jess thought as he swerved just in time to avoid colliding with an uncharacteristically harried and rushed elderly woman. Realizing what he'd just thought, he shook his head disapprovingly. '_Downtown'? When did I start thinking of the center of Stars Hollow as 'downtown'?_ _The sidewalk is paved with freakin' _cobblestones_, for God's sake._

The whole place was straight out of a fairytale – just bursting with so much good will that it was almost enough to make Jess nauseous. But still, there was something pleasant about the town's quaint demeanour. _And if I keep thinking like that, something inside me is gonna die._

As Jess walked, he noticed that there were little, crunchy balls of snow in his path, rubble left behind by the blade of a shovel. He took great pleasure in the sound they made as the soles of his hiking shoes mercilessly flattened them, one by one.

Jess gracefully side-stepped a storekeeper who was knocking icicles off an awning and zeroed in on his destination - the Stars Hollow Post Office. Just as he was about to pull open the tinted glass door, however, it was pushed open from the other side. Jess was forced to dodge it quickly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Taylor said amiably before he had the chance to recognize whose face he'd almost disfigured. But, thanks to the abrupt change in Taylor's facial expression, Jess could pinpoint the exact moment the older man realized to whom he was talking. "Mr. Mariano," Taylor grudgingly acknowledged.

"Sir," Jess mocked, motioning as if he were tipping his hat. Then, smiling at Taylor in a way that directly contradicted his serious tone of voice, he said, "You know, you should really watch that door. I know you're a busy man and all, but you could seriously injure someone who lacks my catlike reflexes."

Ignoring the reprimand, Taylor appraised Jess, concerned by his overly cheerful attitude. "Why are you smiling?" he asked quickly. "You've been up to no good, haven't you?"

"Me?" Jess questioned, laying his open palm against his chest and adopting a stricken look. "I think I may be insulted. I'm simply taking advantage of one of the many _fine_ services this town has to offer."

"Mock if you will, but just remember that you would not be able to mail whatever it is you're mailing right now, if it weren't for this fine service."

Jess smirked a little, internally acknowledging that Taylor had just made a very good point. There was no way he was going to let him know that, however. "Nah, my mail could've waited 'til tomorrow. But you – you were flyin' outta here like a bat out of hell. Makin' a run for it before the letter bomb goes off?"

"Why, I would _never_!" Taylor replied, flabbergasted. "I – I didn't mail _anything_."

"You didn't?" Jess asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Taylor assured him a little too forcefully. By now, he had stepped out onto the street, and, as he spoke, he quickly glanced around as though he were hiding something. His nervous behaviour did not go unnoticed by Jess.

"Geez, Taylor, I was kiddin' about the letter bomb, but now…" Jess trailed off then leaned in closer to Taylor and teased softly, "Should I be wearing protective gear or something?"

"Must everything be a joke with you?"

"Oh, please," Jess scoffed. "In this town, everything _is_ a joke. This town itself is a joke."

"You won't be laughing forever, young man."

"Huh. For once you're right, Taylor," Jess said with a tinge of anger. "God willing, I'll get outta this town someday soon. Now, excuse me; I have something to mail. Don't you have some cops to elude?"

"I did _not_ mail anything illegal!" Taylor raged.

"A-ha! But you mailed something?" Jess asked, catching Taylor's error.

"You're impossible!" Taylor huffed dismissively before storming away from the post office.

Chuckling in satisfaction, Jess entered the post office and made a beeline for the visibly bored clerk at the front desk. He handed over the envelope for Rory and then headed to the mailboxes that aligned the far wall – far being relative, of course, as the post office was barely bigger than a walk-in closet. Fishing in his pocket, he retrieved the key to Luke's post office box and stuck it in the lock. He was momentarily surprised when he saw the bulging bundle of mail that lay inside – that is, until he remembered that he'd forgotten to pick it up yesterday as Luke had asked. He flipped through the pile: a few random letters and bills; what was apparently a Christmas card from Luke's dear, old, batty cousin, Frannie, and her "gorgeous" parrot, Petey; and a small box with his name on it. 

Jess frowned. He'd actually forgotten about his ridiculous Secret Santa for a moment, and he found himself rather annoyed to be reminded. Unfortunately, this was likely another gift, and he knew there was a very distinct possibility that he would not like its contents. He freed his hands by stuffing the other mail in his back pocket, alongside the novel, and glanced around the room. The only other person in the post office was the clerk, who was watching Jess out of boredom. He didn't particularly look like the type to care what Jess's gift was. Nonetheless, Jess switched his position so that the clerk couldn't possibly see what he was opening. Then, feeling safe, he peeled the wrapping paper off.

Jess finished opening the gift and, for a long moment, just stared at its contents, trying to figure out what it was supposed to mean. Confused, he lifted the item out of its box and opened its lid. Sure enough, as he'd thought, it was a black, felt stamp pad like one could find in any office supply store. Who would send him a stamp pad? Pondering that question, Jess noticed that, when he'd lifted the pad out of the box, he'd revealed yet another note. Cautiously, he picked it up, unfolded it, and read the words. "I'm sure it won't be the first time you've been fingered." 

Blinking, Jess scanned the note again, praying that he'd read it wrong. He hadn't. _Fingered? Who is this freak?_ This time, he almost laughed. These gifts were so unlike Stars Hollow, it was almost funny. Almost – if they weren't also so disturbing. At least he could be grateful that no one else had been around to see the gift this time; he could only imagine how merciless the teasing would have been then. 

After reading the note several more times, Jess sighed and finally crumpled it in his hands. He tossed it into a nearby wastepaper basket, leaning forward slightly to make the long shot. As he was straightening up, however, he caught sight of the clerk again, still watching him as though observing Jess had been the only excitement he'd had all day.

Jess frowned again, then walked over and reached into the wastepaper basket. He pulled the note back out and stuffed it in his pocket. The clerk looked trustworthy enough, but, in this town, one never knew. It was better to be safe than sorry. He'd burn it instead.

Still unnerved and distracted by his most recent Secret Santa gift, Jess left the post office and strolled towards the diner, deep in thought. He'd decided that someone must be playing a trick on him because there was no way these gifts could be for real. Could they? Granted, Stars Hollow was full of freaks, but they'd always seemed like the innocent, simple-minded, 'Little House on the Prairie' type of freaks – not _this_ type of freaks. Then again, what with Miss Patty and Kirk as just two examples, was it really entirely out of the realm of possibility? 

"Jess!" Luke barked, startling his nephew back to reality as soon as he walked through the door.

"What?" Jess replied, sounding more annoyed than he actually felt.

"Where have you been? You were supposed to help me with the breakfast shift, remember? First, you're walking down the stairs – I _think_ to come help me. Next thing I know, I see your back halfway out the door."

"Geez, Uncle Luke," Jess said in a snide tone. "How did you ever manage this place before I came along? If I'd known I was such a valuable asset…"

"Knock it off," Luke ordered. "When you say you're gonna be here, I expect you to be here. Where did you go?"

"I had something to take care of."

"Like what?" Luke asked, refusing to settle for that weak attempt at an excuse.

"Like something," Jess mocked, approaching the counter. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"The rush was fifteen minutes ago. If you want to get paid for your time, I expect a good excuse."

Jess sighed and looked down at the ground. He was really going to need that money to cover Rory's gifts. He lifted his head but avoided looking at Luke as he reluctantly admitted, "I had to mail something."

"You had to mail something? Right now?" Luke asked curiously.

"Yes," Jess said, finally making eye contact. "_Right_ now. If I didn't mail it this morning, it wouldn't get there on time."

"Do you owe somebody money?"

"No," Jess said, insulted.

"Well then, what couldn't wait?" Luke pried, starting to enjoy this interrogation.

"Look," Jess answered, gesturing angrily. "I don't need the money _that_ badly. I'm going upstairs."

As Jess walked around the counter and towards the stairwell, Luke's eyes followed his every move. Jess was just about to step up the first stair when Luke grinned and said joyfully, "Ohhh!" His tone stopped Jess dead in his tracks.

Jess paused on the stairs for a moment and then turned his head to his uncle. When he saw the annoying look of satisfaction on Luke's face, he couldn't help bellowing, "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Luke said casually, wiping down the counter. 

Jess turned around and walked over to where Luke was standing. "What?" he repeated, growing angrier by the second.

"It's Sunday," Luke stated.

"Yeah, so."

"Mail isn't delivered on Sunday except at one time of year and for one reason."

"Are you going to get to a point someday?"

"I know what you were doing."

"Yeah, right," Jess scoffed. 

"It's okay, Jess. Your secret's safe with me," Luke assured him conspiratorially. 

Jess gave him another annoyed look and then smirked. "Well, gosh, Uncle Luke. Now that you know the whole story, do I get my money?"

Luke handed him an order pad. "Get to work," he said, still smiling.

Frustrated, Jess snatched the pad from his hand and turned to walk to a table. 

"I hope your mail gets there on time… _Shakespeare_," Luke said knowingly.

Jess glared at him out of the corner of his eye but kept on walking. 

***

A short while later, Jess had just finished perking a fresh pot of coffee when he saw a little girl walk into the diner, carrying a gift-wrapped box. He watched with interest as she approached Luke from behind and tugged on his flannel shirt. Luke turned to see who wanted his attention and, not seeing anyone, was about to turn back to his customer when he felt the tug again. This time, he looked down and saw the little, redheaded girl holding the box out to him. 

"This is for you," she said matter-of-factly, and, as soon as Luke took the package, she turned on her heel and marched back out of the diner. Even Jess couldn't help but smile at the cute display.

Luke finished taking the order and then walked back and set the box on the counter. He quickly began to peel away the gift-wrap, excited since his two previous gifts had actually been worthwhile. In his zeal, he didn't notice that a curious Jess had moved in closer so he could peer over Luke's shoulder.

Setting aside the paper, Luke ran his fingers around the perimeter of the white, rectangular box, breaking the tape that sealed its edges. Then, he lifted the lid and removed the festive tissue paper. As soon as he saw the gift, however, he smashed the lid back down as quickly as possible – but not quickly enough. The box had been open just long enough for Jess to catch a glimpse of what lay inside – a black, short-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned with an iron-on portrait of the crew of the Starship Enterprise. Unable to control himself, Jess chuckled, drawing Luke's attention.

Grabbing the wrapping paper in one hand and the box in the other, Luke said gruffly, "I'm going upstairs. Keep an eye on things."

"Can you promise you'll be wearing your gift when you come back down?" Jess teased.

"You're not funny."

"Really?" Jess asked with a raised eyebrow. After taking a brief moment to consider Luke's theory, he shrugged. "You could be right. But that," he said, pointing to the box, "_is_ funny."

Ignoring him, Luke headed up the stairs. Jess quickly walked to the bottom, however, and yelled up, "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me… Uncle Spock!" 

***

Later that evening, Lorelai was upstairs casually augmenting the outfit she had "just thrown on that morning." Rory knew her mother was dressing up just in case her next present turned out to be another date - a hot one.

Rory was sorting through the mail that had come earlier that day when she came across an envelope with her name and address on it but nothing else. She dropped the junk mail on the kitchen table and headed into her room for her letter opener. With pleasant anticipation, she slit open the envelope. Inside was a lined page, which she eagerly unfolded, revealing a poem printed in the boxy script of an old typewriter.

She exists on a plane that's far above me.  
A person beyond what I've aspired to be.

The world she views with a gleam in her eyes,  
And at her glance, it all beautifies.

Her eyes, two stars, cast a rosy sheen.   
She surely must be a celestial queen. 

And yet, despite all her exalted being,  
Even simplest creatures still is she seeing.

She appreciates me like no others do.  
For it's through her eyes that I can shine too.

Rory sank to her bed and reread the poem numerous times, her hand finding its way up to cover her mouth, and her eyes misting over with unshed tears. Who had written this poem? Despite her extensive, internal catalogue of poetry, she didn't recognize the words or the author's style. Had Rory's Secret Santa written it for her?

"Hey Sweets," Lorelai started as she burst into Rory's room. "Have you seen my…" Noticing the look on Rory's face, she forgot what she was about to say. "Hun, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Mom, read this," Rory blurted as she thrust the paper at Lorelai. 

"From your Santa?"

"Yes." 

Lorelai took the page from her.

Rory watched her mother's expression avidly as Lorelai's eyes scanned the page. "Wow. Whoever wrote this sure is hot for you," she said as she sat down beside Rory at the foot of the bed.

"Mom!" she admonished. "Do you think Dean wrote it?"

"Frankly, no."

"Well, then he must have found the poem somewhere. I don't know who else it could be."

"Ha-ha! Maybe Kirk wrote it," Lorelai teased. 

"Mom! Ew! Be serious!" 

"Uh, well, Jess comes to mind," Lorelai answered as though stating the obvious. "We already know he has the hots for you."

"No. It couldn't be him. Jess hates poetry. Besides, we're just friends." 

"My darling daughter, I love you, but you're crazy." 

"No, really," Rory argued. 

"'A few verses short of a Christmas carol', that's what you are," Lorelai said wryly. 

"Hey! You stole my line!" Rory complained. 

Lorelai shook her head sadly and made a tsking noise. "Delusions of grandeur. This is gettin' serious. I'm afraid the men in the white coats are gonna come and take you away any day now."

"Funny," Rory said in a tone that was anything but amused. 

When they heard the doorbell ring, Lorelai added, "Oh, the men are early." She got up to answer the door. "I just hope the straitjacket is stylish. Your grandmother always says you look so good in blue."

Rory rolled her eyes, picked the poem up from where her mother had left it on the bed, and dragged herself into a standing position. Then, she followed her mother into the front hall to see who the next blind date was.

*** 

That day, Dean's aunt and uncle had arrived from Chicago, and, for the occasion, his mother had made a festive celebratory dinner. When they'd finished the meal, his mother had presented the guests with a dessert selection courtesy of Dean's Secret Santa. Afterward, when the family retired to the living room to watch a holiday movie, Dean excused himself and crept back into the kitchen.

Despite the fact that it was probably the third piece he'd had that day, Dean cut a slice out of the marble cheesecake. He lifted it and placed it on a saucer, afterwards licking the delicious crumbs off of his fingertips. Dean covered the rest of the cake again and, turning, picked up his plate to go, but he stopped himself before he could walk away. Smiling, he looked down at the counter again. As an afterthought, he tucked a couple of rocky road cookies beside the slice of cake and, finally satisfied, headed out of the kitchen.

Dean took the delicacies with him up to his room and kicked the door closed behind him. He sat down on the carpet, beside his stereo, and placed the plate on the floor in front of him. Reaching up onto his desk, he grasped the audiocassette he'd left there earlier, once again cracked open the case, and popped the cassette into the tape deck.

As Dean waited for the strains of the first song, he unfolded the stationery tucked into the cassette case and reread the note.

"Dearest Dean," the note began in Times New Roman font. Dean smiled again, took a bite of cookie and read on.

"Have you ever wanted to say something and found that you just couldn't? I have. There are a lot of things I've wanted to say, but, for whatever reason, I could not say them to your face. So I made this tape. It contains songs which I hope will speak for me."

Dean put the page back down and bit into the cake as Madonna began singing "Crazy for You." Dean sat there on the floor, lazily eating cake and cookie, and paid greater attention to the lyrics of the song than he ever had before. Dean finished up his snacks to the accompaniment of the next song, Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me."

The cassette contained other such romantic classics as "I Think I Love You" by David Cassidy and "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley. But the song that caught Dean's fancy and pleased him the most was "You're the One that I Want" from the Grease Soundtrack, because of what the lyrics signified. It meant that Dean was the one Rory loved, not Jess. 

Once Dean had listened to many of the songs, he left the tape playing in the background, stood up, and lay back against the pillows on his bed. He reached for the phone on the end table and dialed the seven little numbers he knew so well. Rory answered on the second ring.

"Hey there," Dean drawled in a husky voice brought on by the romantic music.

"Hi, Dean," Rory replied distractedly. When the phone had rung, she'd been rereading her poem for perhaps the hundredth time, still wondering who had sent it. She wasn't all that grateful for Dean's interruption. "How are you?"

"Great! And yourself?"

"Um. I'm good too. So, did you get your latest gift?" she said, thinking instead, not of his gift, but of the one she herself had received.

Dean smiled because she'd brought up exactly what had put him in such a good mood. "I did. Actually, that's why I called."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you how awesome I think my Secret Santa is," he said slyly.

"Yeah? You really scored this time, huh?"

"I sure did."

"Well, whoever your Secret Santa is, he or she must be putting in a lot of effort," she said casually. "What did you get today?"

Dean realized she was playing it cool, not letting on she already knew the gifts he'd received. _If she wants to pretend she's not my Santa,_ he thought_, then I'll play along_. "A mixed tape," he replied just as nonchalantly, his eyes twinkling. 

"Oh. Good music?"

Dean caught the chorus of Andy Gibb's "I Just Want to Be Your Everything." "Yeah, there's some very good music on here."

"Good," Rory replied, still distracted by her own gift.

"What about your Secret Santa?"

"Mine? Oh, you know, the usual. Jellybeans, deck of cards…" she trailed off, the lie slipping easily from her lips and her heart speeding up. For some reason, she'd lied to Dean. Actually, the reason was obvious; she didn't think he'd take it well if he knew her Santa had written her poetry.

"Have you figured out who your Santa is?" he asked. 

"Um. No," she said quickly, feeling a little bit panicked. "I don't like to speculate on these things."

"Sure you do."

"No, I don't. It's my mother who does."

"Okay, if you insist," Dean grinned. "In any case, I think I've figured out mine."

"Well, don't tell me," she said quickly, trying to underscore her new stance of non-speculation. "It's supposed to be a secret until Christmas Eve!" If he kept talking about Secret Santas, Rory might accidentally reveal more than she wanted to.

Dean chuckled. "Okay. I won't speculate. I'll just wait until the party."

"You do that." Rory relaxed and changed the subject. "So your aunt and uncle made it there all right?"

"Yup. The folks are downstairs watching _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_."

"Oh yeah. Good movie. I forgot that was on tonight."

"Hey, speaking of good movies, you know, _Two Towers_ opened the other day. You still haven't told me if you'll come with me to see it."

"Oh. Uh, I'll have to think about it."

"Okay. Just let me know, and I'll buy the tickets."

"Actually, don't buy the tickets yet. To tell you the truth, I don't really want to go," Rory said gently. "Seeing the first one so many times kinda ruined the book for me."

"But you loved the special effects."

"Yeah but… I'll think about it. Just don't buy the tickets yet."

"OK. We can do something you like beforehand. We can go out for a nice dinner."

"Oooh! Yeah, let's go some place in Hartford. Like The Willows."

Dean crinkled his nose a little at the thought of the upscale Willows restaurant. But still, this was Rory. He'd do anything for her. "Yeah, we can go to The Willows."

"Oooh Dean!" came her excited voice over the phone lines. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

Dean smiled again as the next song, "All My Loving" by the Beatles, began. "Yes, I do believe you have," he purred.

***

Not long after Rory hung up with Dean, she finally put down the poem and, needing a distraction, walked over to the Christmas tree. Leaning over, she plugged in the lights. Once the Christmas lights were on, she walked around the living room and turned off all of the lamps until only the glow of the tree illuminated the room. 

Sighing contentedly, she sat back on the couch and watched the flashing colours reflect on the walls. She gazed at them, entranced, losing track of time, and was surprised when she finally glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost 11:30. She didn't want to go to bed before her mom came home so she kneeled down on the floor and crawled over to the tree until she was lying beneath its limbs, gazing upward at the twinkle lights and delicate ornaments. 

Every year, she and her mom would lie under the tree and take in its beauty together as though it were a secret only they shared. Lorelai would point out special ornaments and tell Rory the stories of how they came to reside in the Gilmore household. Rory would smile as if she'd never heard the tales before, and, eventually, her mother's gentle, comforting voice would lull her into a peaceful slumber beneath her very own sky of twinkling, crayon-coloured stars. 

Rory smiled at the memory and shifted her position so she was more comfortable for the Christmas vigil. Just a few minutes later, she heard her mom open the front door and walk in.

"Rory! Hey, Ror, where are you?" Lorelai called, breathless.

"Over here," Rory replied from beneath the tree.

"Aw, you started without me?" Lorelai asked sadly as she took off her winter coat and threw her purse onto the couch.

"I just laid down. You didn't miss a thing."

"You better not be lying to make me feel better," Lorelai joked before walking over and crouching beside the tree. "Scoot over." Rory moved a little to the right, and Lorelai stretched out on the floor beside her, drawing in an awed gasp as she looked up into the tree. "Is it possible that it's even more beautiful this year?" she asked softly.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Rory mused. Then, she turned to look at her mother and asked with a mischievous smile. "How was the date? You were out later than usual."

"Not by choice," Lorelai answered with a deep sigh. "Are you sure you want me to tell you about it and ruin this beautiful moment?"

"Yes, please."

Lorelai sucked in her breath and held it for a moment, the lights of the Christmas tree casting sparkling reflections in her haunted eyes. She seemed to be struggling with a memory that was ideally forgotten, yet too painful to forget. "Nah. I can't do it," she said finally, letting her breath out in a whoosh.

Rory laughed softly. "That bad, huh?"

"Ooh yeah," Lorelai replied with attitude and depression. "Maybe someday I'll be able to talk about it."

"What about Luke?" Rory asked. "How's the Secret Santa thing going?"

"Man, you are good at zoning in on the bad topics tonight, kiddo."

"Don't wanna talk about it?"

"Can we find sharp sticks and poke them in our eyes first?"

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"I have one more gift to buy for Luke," Lorelai said as a peace offering. "Sookie and I are going to Hartford tomorrow to try to find something."

"Good enough," Rory conceded. 

"Thank God you weren't blessed with your grandmother's 'Pry Until It Hurts' gene."

Rory smiled in amusement, and they fell into a comfortable silence.

After awhile, Rory glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye and said quietly, "Dad called today."

Lorelai's heart caught in her throat, but when she spoke, her voice miraculously sounded normal. "He did?"

"Yeah. He just wanted to wish me a Merry Christmas because he figured we'd be busy for the next couple of days."

"How is he?"

"He's fine. Sherry's fine. They're having a good time at her parents' place."

"Good. That's good," Lorelai said, almost genuinely.

"He told me to tell you Merry Christmas too."

"That was nice of him."

"Yes, it was," Rory agreed.

Lorelai smiled and changed the subject. "Any more thoughts on who your Secret Santa might be?"

Being reminded of the poem excited the butterflies in Rory's stomach. "No," she said sadly. "I can't imagine who could've written it."

"My money's still on Jess," Lorelai stated.

"It isn't from Jess," Rory argued, although the thought that it _could_ have come from Jess made her heart race and led the aforementioned butterflies to start doing gymnastics. It was like a Summer Olympics was going on inside her stomach.

"If you say so," Lorelai teased, letting the issue drop.

They continued to quietly lie on the floor for a long time, both with thoughts anywhere but on the tree, until at last, Rory sighed and moved over to rest her head on her mother's shoulder, positioned in such a way that she could still gaze upwards. Lorelai shifted her arm so it wrapped around Rory and began running her fingers soothingly through her daughter's hair.

"Hey Mom," Rory whispered, pointing up at a small, simple angel ornament. "Where'd that one come from? I can't remember."

Lorelai smiled and kissed the top of Rory's head before squinting up past the bright lights at the tiny angel. "Well, you must've been maybe two or three," she began. "I wanted to get you an ornament every year, but that year, I wasn't sure if I could afford it - " 

As her mother murmured softly in her ear, Rory snuggled more deeply into her embrace and closed her eyes. 

***

Please review!

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.


	5. How Many Golden Hoops Must One Santa Jum...

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.

**A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol**

**CHAPTER 5: How Many Golden Hoops Must One Santa Jump Through Anyway?**

"I am the _worst_ Secret Santa in the history of Secret Santas!" Sookie declared sadly as she and Lorelai walked across the mall parking lot towards the main entrance.

"C'mon, Sookie, I'm sure you're exaggerating," Lorelai reassured her. "You have Kirk. I know we agreed it was going to be hard, but it can't be _that_ hard."

Sookie stopped abruptly and held up her hands in a mock defensive pose. "Now wait a minute," she said loudly. Lorelai, realizing that Sookie was no longer beside her, turned around and looked at her curiously. "I want you," Sookie began, "to tell me what _you _would get Kirk if he was _your_ Giftee." 

"Well," Lorelai said, thinking for a second. "There's the … um… Well, okay, what about the … uh … Oh, I know!" She snapped her fingers, then trailed off. "I'd get him the…"

"Having some difficulty finishing a sentence?" Sookie asked with an amused smile.

"It's not fair! You put me on the spot! There's too much… pressure!" Lorelai defended herself, waving her hands wildly.

"Oh, right," Sookie teased.

"Okay, fine. I can't really think of anything."

"Welcome to my world!" Sookie moaned, flinging her hands up in exasperation while not even noticing the innocent passerby she'd almost smacked in the head or the dirty look she'd received in the process. Instead, she continued onward to her destination. Lorelai wordlessly offered the other shopper a meek apology as she took off after her friend. The shopper grunted and returned to unlocking his car.

As they walked, Sookie turned to her friend with a serious look. "Do you know why most people hate Secret Santa exchanges?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Because of people like me! I am one of those lame Secret Santas that ruins the process and jades people against the whole tradition."

"Aw, Sookie," Lorelai said sadly.

"No, no. It's fine. I've accepted it," Sookie resignedly stated, a depressed look on her usually enthusiastic face. "After all, someone has to be the dreaded Secret Santa that everyone talks about the next year right before the name-drawing. The one person in the whole town that everyone prays doesn't pick their name! I am officially that person."

"Please, Sookie! Everyone knows that grouchy, old Mrs. Nervel is that person. She hasn't lost her 'Lamest Secret Santa in the World' title in years. Even Luke hasn't beaten her, and we all know how inane his gifts can be."

"You'd be surprised," Sookie contended. "'Cause I'm givin' her a _serious _run for her money!" 

They had now reached the entrance to the mall, and Lorelai held the door open for Sookie as she walked in. They leisurely began to walk towards the center of the mall, removing their hats and gloves in the process. "I'll never understand why malls insist on turning the heat to full blast in the winter," Lorelai muttered. "Don't they realize that customers will be wearing layer upon layer of winter clothing? They could turn it down a notch or two. But, noo! I think they take sick pleasure out of watching us try to juggle all of our shopping bags _and_ our winter coats. It's like a game to them, I just know it."

"Okay, honey," Sookie said gently. "As much as I enjoy hearing your annual rant on the satanic ways mall staff play with our minds, I'm having a breakdown here." 

"Right, sorry," Lorelai said apologetically. "Tell me what you got him. Maybe it isn't as bad as you think." 

"You promise you won't be embarrassed to be my friend?"

"Well, I probably shouldn't make promises I might not be able to keep," Lorelai said slyly. Then, smiling warmly at Sookie, she said honestly, "I promise."

"Okay, but before I start, I want you to know that I really did try to find gifts that Kirk would like. It kept me up at night. I even asked Jackson for help."

"Wow! Jackson? You _were_ desperate!"

"I know. He was so sweet. He put up with me grilling him for over an hour, but, in the end, I couldn't get any ideas out of him either. Believe me, I did try to find the perfect gifts."

"Sincere effort noted. Continue." 

"Well, the first gift wasn't so bad. I got him Christmas pens."

"Christmas pens?" Lorelai repeated. "What do you mean?"

"You know, the little Santas and Rudolphs? They have the cap heads and the little protruding feet so they can stand up on your desk." 

"Oh," Lorelai answered, nodding in understanding. "I got Rory one of those when she was little. She went to write with it, and, you know, because their heads are the cap, you kinda have to pull off their heads to write. She thought she'd killed Santa. I don't know if I've ever seen her more upset. It took hours to convince her that Santa was okay, and she made me promise never to remove the cap again."

"Oh no!" Sookie wailed. "I didn't even consider how disturbing they are."

"Kirk's a grown man. I'm sure he can deal with it."

Sookie gave Lorelai a skeptical look. "Ok," Lorelai conceded. "So maybe not the best idea."

"This is even more horrible than I thought," Sookie declared despondently.

"No, you're doing fine. What else did you get him?"

"Well, a box of candy canes."

"Peppermint or fruity?"

"Does it matter?" Sookie asked.

"Ah!" Lorelai exclaimed, shocked and dismayed. "Of course it matters!"

"It does? I didn't _know_!" Sookie was becoming panicked.

"Sookie, Sookie, calm down," Lorelai soothed, moving in front of her friend and holding her by the shoulders. "Which did you get him?"

"Umm… the assorted fruit," Sookie said quietly, squinting her eyes in preparation for the worst.

Lorelai sighed in relief, and Sookie responded likewise. "Thank God!" Lorelai said gratefully. "See, some people actually don't like the peppermint." 

Sookie's mouth fell open. "Don't like the peppermint?" she asked, putting her problems on the backburner as she contemplated this new bit of information. "Are they insane?"

"I know, I know," Lorelai continued. "It's crazy but true. But everyone loves the fruity. So, unless you know which kind of candy cane the person prefers, you get the fruity."

"So I'm okay?"

"You're better than okay! You didn't choose just one fruit — another fatal mistake. The assorted fruit is the only way to go."

Sookie relaxed and nodded. "You had me worried there."

"So we have the Christmas pens, the fruity candy canes… not perfect gifts, but definitely better than Mrs. Nervel. What was gift number 3?"

"It's bad," Sookie said, sighing.

"I'm sure it's no—"

"No, it's really, really bad," Sookie interrupted.

"Well, then, don't leave me in suspense!"

"I got him a loofah messenger," Sookie mumbled so that Lorelai could barely make out her words. Sookie still wasn't quite ready to reveal the third gift.

"Excuse me? Did you say 'loofah messenger'? There are actually people who deliver loofahs?"

"No," Sookie said in exasperation. She enunciated more clearly. "I got him a ladybug massager."

"A ladybug massager? Ok, I understood the loofah messenger but a ladybug massager? What _is_ that?"

Sookie sighed. "It's a massager in the shape of a ladybug – bright red, black spots. The bottom kind of looks like the top of a piece of Lego. You know, with those little circular bumps? Anyway, you turn it on, and it vibrates. It massages your back." Sookie lifted an arm and bent it over her shoulder. She swept the arm back and forth, demonstrating a personal massage.

Even before Sookie had finished her description, Lorelai had started laughing. "Sookie, please tell me you're joking. Where does one even find such a thing?"

"It was in one of those fun, eclectic gift stores," she bubbled, growing more comfortable with the gift idea. 

"Wow!" Lorelai said, shaking her head incredulously. "Well, it is an unusual gift. I'll give ya that."

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"Do you have room on your mantel for the trophy?"

"Trophy?" Sookie asked.

"In just a few short days, the 'Lamest Secret Santa in the World' award could be yours! All for the low, low price of… How much does a ladybug massager cost?"

"I knew it!" Sookie cried. "I shouldn't have participated this year. I had a bad feeling about it right from the start."

"Sookie, Sookie, I'm kidding."

"No, you're not. The gift is terrible."

"It's unique. Kirk's unique. It may just be the best gift he'll ever get."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not," Lorelai said sincerely. "If there's anyone who can appreciate a ladybug massager, it's Kirk."

"You're a good friend," Sookie said, smiling again.

"I know," Lorelai agreed with a wink. "What are you giving him today?"

"There's no way I'm telling you." 

"Sook! C'mon! Don't make me guess!"

"Ooh, but that could be fun," Sookie giggled. "I _am_ still looking for a fifth gift. Maybe you'll accidentally give me some ideas."

Shaking her head, Lorelai turned down a side hallway of the mall. "C'mon, let's go this way."

"Do you think we'll ever actually start parking near the stores we want to visit?"

"Nah… too predictable."

"Oh, right! Right!" Sookie agreed, nodding her head sagely.

***

Several shops later, Lorelai led the way across yet another large, carpeted store, her legs finding their direction of their own accord. "So I told you Miss Patty's my Secret Santa, didn't I?"

"Yeah. How's that going, by the way?" Sookie replied, her own legs barely keeping up with the determined pace Lorelai had set.

"Do you have a minute to listen to me rant? 'Cause, Honey, there're some strange men out there!"

"Oh no. Bad?"

"Incredibly. What am I? A magnet? You know how you and I always say we hate 'Sex and the City' on the principle that the dates are so bad they can't possibly be true?" Sookie nodded. "Well, we were wrong. Let's see, first, there was Brad. Cute, snappy dresser, brought me a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, but sooooo boring. He barely said two words to me the entire night! That guy was letting conversations drop left and right. 'So, I run an inn,' I said. He says, without even a facial expression, 'Ah.' I try again, something a little easier this time: 'Seen any good movies lately?' What does he say? 'No.' That's it. For a second, I began to wonder if he was Jess's long-lost father or something, given the monosyllabic tendencies. But even Jess is a better conversationalist than this guy. Finally, after a good hour of me offering perfectly good topics to discuss and him responding with a 'Hmm…' or an 'Uh' or a nice, non-committal shrug of the shoulders, I decided to offer him one last chance. So I looked him square in the eye, and I said, 'Hey, guess what? I got pregnant when I was 16, dropped out of school, ran away from home, alienated my parents, and lived in a small shed behind an inn.'" 

"You didn't?" Sookie asked, flabbergasted.

"Oh, believe me, I did. I figured if anything would get a guy talking or at least screaming and running in the opposite direction, that would've. But what do you think he said?"

"Dare I ask?"

"He said, 'Huh.' I kid you not. That's all he said. As if it were the most common, uninteresting thing he'd ever heard in his entire life."

"That's horrible."

"You're telling me. How he could let Patty set him up on a date is beyond me; he is obviously not ready for integration into society."

"Graham, on the other hand," she continued. "Now there was a talker. Very unfortunate. The whole night, he kept regaling me with stories about his Yellow-Naped Amazon Parrot."

"He's just proud of his pet."

"Sookie, there's pride for your pet, and then there's blatant parrot-fixation. You've heard of parrots imitating their owners, right?" Lorelai barely waited for Sookie to nod before continuing. "Well, this guy was imitating his parrot. Right there in the restaurant. He's reading the menu and squawking 'Graham want a pork cutlet'!" 

"Bleh! Pork cutlet. See, that would've ended it right there for me," Sookie replied, the chef inside her momentarily distracted by that particular culinary disaster. "Wait, he was squawking like a parrot _inside_ the restaurant?"

"Yes! Believe me, 15 minutes into the date, and I was _begging_ for a silence like I had with Brad."

"OK, you're right, neither of those guys sound that great."

"It gets worse," Lorelai moaned.

"Really?"

"Yes. Then, last night, came Dud, er, I mean, Doug."

Sookie giggled as the two of them reached the display for which they'd been heading.

"The evening started off fine. He took me out for dinner at Chianti's."

"Ooh, nice place," Sookie praised.

"Yeah. So I'm sitting at the table, eating my dinner, thinking, 'Unlike Brad and Graham, Doug's not such a bad conversationalist' because, you know, by that time, I'd lowered my expectations," Lorelai said as she flicked through a rack of shirts. "And then I look down, and it occurs to me, this guy has got the shiniest fingernails I have ever seen."

"You're kidding!" giggled Sookie, rifling through a rack of her own. She urged Lorelai to continue.

"I'm not kidding! They were shinier than mine! I mean, I could see my own startled face in their reflective surfaces!"

"Oh my God," Sookie exclaimed. "I have never seen that before."

"I know. There they were, ten little Lorelai reflections, all staring back at me."

"Creepy." Sookie shuddered.

"Gee, thanks."

"But only when you put it that way, Sweetie."

Lorelai took her attention away from the clothing on display and focused it fully on her story. "So anyway, I'm staring at his fingernails all through dinner, and they're just - staring! - back at me, and, finally, I can't stand it anymore. I have to know. So I ask, dreading the answer," Lorelai stated ominously. "'Doug, are you wearing nail polish?'"

"Oooh. What did he say?" Sookie asked, her hands resting on top of the clothes rack, her chin resting on top of her hands, and her eyes turned to Lorelai with rapt attention.

"Yes," Lorelai said simply, her hands gesturing with a 'Can you believe it?' attitude.

"Yes? He said 'yes'? He admitted to it?"

"Yes!" Lorelai cried, this time flinging an exasperated hand higher into the air. "He admitted he was wearing clear nail polish!"

"Wow. Why?" 

"That's what I wanted to know. So I asked him." Lorelai absentmindedly returned to flicking through the shirts. "Apparently, he's a chronic nail-biter, and the polish is the only way to deter himself from biting his fingers off."

Sookie laughed, relieved. "Okay, well, that makes a little more sense. At least he didn't say it makes him pretty."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Does he buff them?"

"Um, I don't know. Why?"

"Well, you said they were really shiny so I wondered what his secret is."

"Yeah, he had nice, shiny nails," Lorelai agreed thoughtfully. "Women knock themselves out to have nails that perfect. But men? I can't date a man with shinier nails than mine." She shuddered.

"No. Of course not."

Lorelai sighed. "Too bad. He _was_ a good conversationalist. But ick!" 

Needing a distraction from the disturbing dates, Lorelai focused her gaze fully on the shirts before her, and her eyes got lost in the reds and grays of a particular tartan fabric. _Hmph!_ she thought. She'd just realized she was looking at a rack of flannel shirts. "You know, I already gave Luke a flannel shirt. I should get him something else."

"Mmmm," Sookie replied in agreement.

"Ahh!" Lorelai exclaimed in exasperation. "I only have _one more_ gift to get for him. Shopping for Luke is too hard. I mean, look at me, only four gifts later, and I've already come back around to the flannel shirt display!"

"Well, it's true the man doesn't really need another flannel shirt. Let's get out of here and see what else we can find."

"Gladly." 

Without another word, they left Timberland and stepped back into the Christmas-themed halls of the Hartford mall, Lorelai bemoaning her plight of shopping for Luke all the way. She stopped, however, mid-whine, when a particular sign caught her eye. "Hey! I've got an idea," she said, suddenly excited.

Sookie followed her gaze to the sign that said 'Personalized T-Shirts and Baseball Caps' and then followed her into the store.

***

Rory lifted the cup to her lips, and the rising steam warmed her frosted nose even before the liquid warmed her body and soul. "Mmmm," she hummed in happiness. "It's days like this that make a person happy to be alive, don't you think?"

"That's for sure," Lane concurred as the two wandered across the snowy field. "It's beautiful out today. Sparkly."

That morning, Stars Hollow had awakened to a fresh snowfall and a sunny day. The briskness of the crisp, cool air jolted one's senses to life, and the landscape, although painted white with snow, was a dazzling array of colour: lush, evergreen trees peeking out through frost; picturesque hills reflecting a yellow sun; and charming dales mirroring the rich blue of the sky overhead. 

At first sight, Rory had known that this was a day she wanted to be outside. So, although the temperature was a little nippy, she'd thrown on her coat and hat, wrapped a scarf around her cheeks, and headed out to meet Lane at Luke's.

After the mandatory pit stop at the diner, the two girls had ventured out into the surrounding wilderness, bent on trampling some new tracks in the untouched snow.

Lane raised a mitten-clad hand and took a gulp of her own coffee. The two girls were now nearing the bridge that extended across the river. The water was partly frozen over with ice floes. 

"This is so beautiful!" Rory exclaimed as she looked around. "Is it just me or do you feel something magical in the air today?"

"Well, I _hope_ there's something magical in the air today."

"Why's that?"

"I wrapped Dave's gift last night while my mom was watching the Vision network. I was thinking about taking it over to his place today." 

"Exciting!" Rory teased. "Lane Kim, empowered woman."

Smiling, Lane watched as, with every step they took, snow fell through the slats in the bridge and drifted into the slowly moving water below. "What about you? Why are you so chipper today?"

"Well…" Rory paused. "I've sorta been getting interesting gifts from my Secret Santa." 

"Ooh, really?" Lane asked, turning her full attention to Rory. "Like what?"

"A book… coffee… a poem…" Rory casually listed off.

"Wow, sounds like the person really knows you. Wait, did you say a poem?"

"Umm… yeah."

"What kind of poem? A cute limerick or something?"

"Actually, it was sort of romantic."

"Your Secret Santa wrote you a romantic poem? Do you know who it is?"

"No, and that's the only problem. It could be from anyone."

"Not anyone," Lane pointed out. "It has to be from someone who likes you."

"Theoretically, yes," Rory agreed. "Or it could be a joke."

"I doubt it's a joke, Rory. This is so cool," Lane said excitedly, the hopeless romantic in her coming out. "Do you have any idea at all who might have written it?"

"At first, I thought it might be from Dean, but I don't know. I guess, right now, I'm just letting myself picture the very best candidate."

"Definitely. I would be too if someone gave me a romantic poem anonymously. So what did the poem say?"

"Oh, I don't know. Nice things." Rory shrugged nonchalantly.

"You're seriously not gonna tell me?" Lane asked desperately. "You're talking to a girl who's never been kissed. I _live_ for things like this. C'mon, give me a clue! Throw me a bone!"

Rory smiled deviously then, as though her excitement had suddenly overridden any attempt to keep Lane in suspense. "Well, no, I'm not going to tell you," Rory teased, reaching into her coat pocket while a look of disappointment crossed Lane's face. "But I did happen to bring the poem with me, if you want to read it yourself."

"Are you kidding? You've been holding out on me all this time? Gimme!" Lane grabbed the paper almost before Rory could pass it to her. Then, she unfolded the page in such a gentle manner that Rory could not have anticipated the voracity with which she would devour the text. "This is so sweet, Rory," she said when she'd finished reading, sighing as her addiction to romance was, for the time being, satiated. "I hope it's from someone really cool." 

"Yeah, me too," Rory said softly.

"You're right though," Lane said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I don't think it's from Dean."

Rory nodded thoughtfully. "My mom didn't either. Not only that, but it also looks like it was written on an old typewriter. I don't think Dean has a typewriter."

"Wait," Lane said, coming to a realization. "You're pretty sure it isn't from Dean, but yet you said you were picturing the best possible candidate. If it isn't Dean, who are you picturing?"

"No one," Rory said quickly, her heart flip-flopping. "I may not think it's from Dean, but I can still hope it's from Dean. I hope it's from Dean."

"You do?" Lane asked, eyeing her friend suspiciously.

"Of course I do. I love Dean. It would be amazing if Dean wrote me a romantic poem."

"Rory," Lane said, stopping and looking at her best friend seriously. "You and I both know that poem was not written by Dean. He's a sweet guy, but he doesn't write poetry."

Rory sighed and looked away.

"Okay, I'm not gonna push, but will you at least promise me something?"

Rory looked at her friend gratefully. "What?"

"If the poem does turn out to be from this mysterious best possible candidate, whomever that may be, _then_ will you tell me the whole story?"

Rory was silent for a moment. She started walking back towards the town square, Lane by her side. Finally, she turned to her friend. "Yeah, I promise."

"Thank God," Lane cried, relieved. "'Cause there're only so many scenarios a poor girl who's forbidden to date can imagine over and over. I need new fodder for my fantasies, Rory! I must live vicariously through you!"

"You may live vicariously through me," Rory conceded seriously, playing along. "I'll call you Vikar."

"Good. Now… is there any chance you'll have some juicy stories for me by next Sunday?" she pried. "My mom's making me go on this tedious hayride with these people from our church."

***

By the time Rory returned home, it was already noon. She heard her stomach growl and realized all of the fresh air had made her even hungrier than usual. She sighed, not looking forward to taking on the likely bare kitchen. As she walked across the snowy front lawn to her door, however, she noticed a lovely hand-woven basket perched on the porch. Adding to her delight, the tag on the handle had her name on it. She opened the basket with a wide-eyed grin. Inside, she found a light lunch prepared for her. Her smile grew even wider; it was like her Secret Santa had read her mind.

Rory unlocked the door and took the basket with her into the kitchen. She proceeded to remove the plastic tubs contained within, peeking inside each and lining them up on the table. "Turkey sandwiches, fruit salad, ooh, walnut brownies with chocolate frosting," she listed, smiling contentedly as she opened each one. When she got to the last container, however, the smile dropped off her face and was replaced with a look of trepidation. _Cous-cous?_ she wondered. She hadn't seen cous-cous since she'd put it in Jess's basket – or rather _Dean's_ basket - as a joke. 

Dean had never seen that basket.

Rory sucked in her breath as it all became clear. Her mother had been right. Her Secret Santa was Jess. It had to be. "The Garden of Eden!" she exclaimed suddenly. Of course, only Jess would have given her that book_. _He knew she thought reading Hemingway was worse than watching paint dry. Naturally, he'd try to prove her wrong by giving her an irresistibly wicked Hemingway novel to read.

He also knew she loved coffee and chocolate. And, if she didn't love the gourmet coffee, it was all the better because it would surely send her running straight to Luke's.

_And the poem, _she remembered, her heart pounding._ That incredibly touching and romantic poem._ Thinking about it made Rory blush all over again. She'd desperately wanted to believe it was from him, but she hadn't thought it could be possible. Was it though? Had Jess really written those words for her?

***

Jess sat on his bed and listened attentively. Gradually, the sounds grew more faint and indistinct, as if their source were vanishing into the distance. Now that Luke had finally disappeared downstairs, Jess cautiously leaned over and reached for the box he'd hidden under the bed only a short time before.

A 12-inch cube, it was the largest gift he'd received from his Secret Santa yet. Jess set the box on his lap and stared at it with apprehension for a moment. His Santa had, festively, taken the time to wrap this one, and Jess almost smirked at the irony of the fact - he was pretty sure the contents would not be an actual gift.

Jess pulled at one edge of the plain red wrapping paper and peeled it off of the nondescript, white, cardboard box inside. Finishing that, he flipped the box over and snapped the Scotch tape that held the lid in place. Jess lifted the lid off to reveal the scandalous contents inside.

"Oh my God!" Jess mumbled, astonished, as the gift stared back at him. An instant later, when he'd gotten his wits about him, Jess slammed the lid back on the box and started thinking about damage control. _How does a guy dispose of _this_?_ He wondered.

***

"I'm coming!" Dean called out from the back of the house. He'd been deeply involved in wrapping gifts when, a little after one o'clock, the doorbell had wrung. With much effort, he'd extricated himself from a mountain of wrapping paper clippings, unstuck a ball of Scotch tape from his pant leg, and nearly tripped his way out the den door. "I'm coming!" Dean called again as he regained his balance and trotted through the dining room to the front door. 

When he finally threw the door open, however, the person who had rung the bell was no longer there. Dean scanned the street for the would-be visitor, but whomever it was had already disappeared. "Some people are so impatient," Dean grumbled, wondering why he'd bothered to rush to the door at all. "Give me a chance to get to the door!"

Dean had almost closed the door and turned away when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something sitting on the welcome mat. Opening the door again, he looked down. There, at his feet, was a spherical, cardboard box with his name on the tag. _Rory strikes again,_ he thought, and, as he reached down to pick it up, his mood elevated. 

Dean recognized the shape as an icosahedron, a twenty-sided, three-dimensional object like the one he'd made once out of paper in his grade 6 Math class. The object he held vaguely looked like a soccer ball but with 12 pointed corners and a slightly larger circumference. It was made out of coloured Bristol board, each side being a different colour from the sides next to it. Although it was made out of cardboard, it felt very heavy for its size. Dean turned it over, and, simultaneously, he heard and felt movement inside of it. 

Dean shook the object, and the subsequent sound of hundreds of little pieces inside puzzled him. With a perplexed but amused smile on his face, he looked up and down the street to see if Rory was hiding somewhere, watching his response. He didn't see her though.

A gust of wind chilled him so he brought the object into the house and closed the door behind him. Dean headed straight for his room, away from the prying eyes of his little sister. He wanted to discover this pointed globe's secrets alone.

In his room, with the door safely shut, he sat down on his bed and shook the object again. He smiled as it once more made the sound of thirty large baby rattles. There was something inside it. But where was the opening? 

Each of the twenty sides was a right angle triangle, and each was just like the one before it. None of them looked conspicuously like a trapdoor. Dean shook the object again, as though the sounds would reveal the way inside. He'd shaken it straight up and down this time, and on the downswing, the weight of the contents pushed on the opening, in effect, popping the triangle on the bottom slightly out of alignment. "Ah-ha!" Dean exclaimed in triumph. He delicately turned the twenty-sided box over and, with a finger, pried the triangle open further.

Dean smiled as the contents were revealed at last – a handful of red M & M's. He popped a couple of the tasty candies in his mouth, but, as he did so, he realized that, since there was only a handful of them inside, they alone could not have made all the sounds he'd heard or caused the full weight of the object he'd felt. And that was when Dean noticed that the compartment he'd opened extended only to the center point of the icosahedron; it was not the full size of the object. 

Dean realized then that all twenty sides of the object must have their own separate trapdoors. He opened a few more compartments; as he went along, his fingers became more and more eager and adept at prying open the triangles. He found Hershey's Kisses in one compartment, Red Hearts in another, Gummi Bears and Smarties elsewhere. Hundreds of candies.

Dean leaned back against the headboard of his bed with a dopey smile on his face and a feeling of awe washing over him. Rory had really outdone herself this time. She'd combined the complexity and creativity of her gift idea with her own natural predisposition for junk food.

Dean reached for the phone beside his bed, meaning to call her up and thank her right away for the amazing gift. As he put the receiver to his ear, however, he chuckled and remembered she didn't want to be found out yet. He'd have to wait to thank her when she revealed herself at the party the next evening.

***

Rory sat at the corner table in Luke's, sipping her coffee with uncharacteristic slowness. She had pretended to come in for her daily caffeine fix, but really, she was there to observe Jess. Surreptitiously, she kept glancing at him over her cup. At one point, amidst her stares, he had caught her looking at him, and her eyes had involuntarily darted back down to the table. 

When he caught her a second time, some five minutes later, Rory pledged to herself that she would not look at him again for the next five minutes. She glanced at her watch to commence timing herself and then stared at her coffee with fortitude.

"Are you trying to will the cup to refill itself?"

"Oh, Jess! You scared me!" she exclaimed, her eyes jumping up to see him standing at her table, the coffee carafe in his hand and poised at the ready.

"I would've thought you'd be desensitized, what with Dean being Frankenstein and all."

"Ha-ha," she replied with nervous sarcasm as she let him refill her cup. "So…"

"So?" he repeated.

Rory shook her head and looked back down at the cup warming her hands. "Nothing," she dismissed.

"That didn't sound like a 'nothing' so. It sounded more like a 'something' so," he urged.

"Maybe it _was_ a 'something' so."

"I'm sure it was…" He looked at her steadily. "_So_?"

"I was just wondering something," she said softly.

"Yeah, I gathered that. I'm very astute that way."

"Something that you could perhaps tell me."

"Huh," he stated.

"I was wondering if you know who my Secret Santa is."

"Well, now, Rory, if I'm not mistaken, this sounds suspiciously like a conversation we had a couple days ago. I seem to remember that you wouldn't tell me who you had, and _I_ wouldn't tell you who _I_ had. So, even if I knew who your Secret Santa is, what makes you think I'd tell you? I think we've established that these things need to be kept secret."

"Jess," Rory said seriously, her voice even softer. "I was wondering if _you_ are my Secret Santa."

Across the diner, a customer voiced a desperate need for coffee. Jess took little notice of it but did hold up a finger and nod for the person's benefit. "Why would you think it's me?" he asked.

"A basket of cous-cous?" she said, growing bolder. "You're pretty much the only person in town who would come up with that one."

"Cous-cous? I don't know about that. _You_ fixed _me_ up with a basket of cous-cous. It can't be _that_ uncommon."

"I did it for Dean, actually," Rory pointed out.

"Maybe Dean is your Secret Santa," Jess suggested.

"I don't think it's Dean. I think you're the one."

"Huh," Jess chortled, a smile sliding across his lips. "I think I'm the one too," he growled seductively, giving her a once-over before heading off to serve more coffee. Rory stared after him, her jaw hanging open.

***

Please review!

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky. 


	6. The Age Old Existential Question: Which ...

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.

**A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol**

**CHAPTER 6: The Age-Old Existential Question: Which Came First, the Goose or the Egg?**

The next evening, Jess came out of the diner's kitchen where he'd been washing dishes. Behind the counter, the sight of Luke staring out the window greeted him. Jess followed Luke's eyes to the point where they landed – on Taylor Doose, who was standing outside the window, occasionally being propelled into pacing by an unknown agitation.

"How long has he been out there?"

"About fifteen minutes," Luke replied. "He's acting like he's casing the place. I hope he's not trying to come up with the 'perfect' decorations to pester me with."

"Huh," Jess nodded, losing interest after a moment. Taylor was Luke's problem, not his. "I'm gonna go get ready for the party," he said to Luke. It was the night the Secret Santas would be revealed, and Jess was going to dress up a little bit for Rory. 

But, before Jess could turn and head for the stairs, Taylor had a sudden burst of determination and entered the diner at last. Jess couldn't help but notice the no-nonsense look on Taylor's face. The look wasn't altogether unusual for Taylor, except that, this time, it was focused on Jess rather than Jess's uncle.

"Jess Mariano," Taylor grumbled. "I've decided to just get this over with."

"And what might 'this' be?" Jess finger-quoted, turning to face the older man.

"This might be the worst moment of my life," Taylor wailed under his breath.

"And I was there to witness it? I feel so privileged," Jess said sweetly.

"Why is this the worst moment of your life, Taylor?" Luke asked. "And be forewarned, I may take great pleasure in the reason."

"Because I had to stoop to being Secret Santa to this… rapscallion," Taylor replied, gesturing at Jess with disgust.

Luke burst out laughing. "_You're_ Jess's Secret Santa?"

"_You've_ been giving me all those gifts?" Jess had to admit it made sense now, if one turned around and looked at the gifts in a purely literal way. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that his Santa was just Taylor and not some sex-crazed, kinky psychotic. Then a sly smile snaked across his features. What he'd once found disturbing had suddenly become _very_ entertaining.

"Unfortunately, yes," Taylor groaned.

"Well, Taylor," Jess teased, adopting an exaggeratedly astonished tone. "I never knew you liked me that way… Handcuffs? Gosh… And that last gift? Your intentions were _quite_ apparent, Mister!" 

"That's not funny, Young Man!"

"I know, I know. This is a sensitive subject," Jess continued with mocking sympathy. "It's just that – how do I put this? I'm flattered; don't get me wrong. But, well, you're not really my type," he stage-whispered. "I'm not into all of that kinky stuff."

"I've never been so insulted!" Taylor huffed, horrified. He turned to stomp out the door.

Jess called after him before he had the chance to make his exit. "It's not too late though. Maybe we can work it out!"

At that, Taylor froze and stomped back over to Jess, thrusting some cash at him. "Here! I almost forgot; this is your last gift from me, Young Man. So don't you dare try to steal it later!" As Taylor forced out the words, he recalled his earlier thoughts and couldn't believe that he'd actually felt guilty for depriving this miscreant of worthwhile gifts. Why, he'd actually thought for a second that maybe Jess could buy something nice with the money. 

Truth be told, the money Taylor was offering him wasn't much, and Jess would probably steal more anyway, the next chance he got, but tradition was tradition, and he couldn't very well give his Giftee only four gifts. Looking at Jess now, he could tell by the glint in his eye that the money had been a very bad idea.

"Money?" Jess asked incredulously. "You wanna _pay_ for it? No, no, Baby. I'll do it for free!" 

That was the last straw for Taylor; he turned again, sputtering in outrage, and finally left Luke and Jess alone to laugh at the whole scene. 

***

The weather was unseasonably warm for Christmas Eve. After bestowing the last of her presents on an appreciative Shannon Hicks, Rory walked about Town Square, observing the party in full swing all around her, under the vast array of twinkle lights and patio lanterns. 

From across the square, she caught sight of Miss Patty with her arm around Dean. Rory supposed she should go make an effort to save her boyfriend from the woman's clutches, but in all honesty, she didn't feel like seeing Dean just then. Thankfully, Rory was able to brush aside the momentary pangs of guilt when she saw her mother intercept Miss Patty on her behalf.

She and Dean had come to the party separately, mostly because, although Jess hadn't admitted it outright, his innuendo the previous day had given Rory every indication that he was her Santa. She certainly didn't want Dean to be with her when Jess definitively revealed it at last. 

Rory made polite small talk with the people she passed, knowing full well the entire time she was really only there to find Jess. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

Rory decided to take a walk across the square, down towards the diner, hoping she'd have more luck there. She was scanning the surrounding area intently when she suddenly felt a strong hand on her arm, pulling her behind a nearby building. Surprisingly, she wasn't afraid; she knew who it was without looking.

"Jess!" she gasped. Turning around, she found herself swimming in a pair of deep brown eyes. His smile was hypnotic.

"For you," he said.

Still dazed, she gave him a confused look. "What?"

"For you, my Giftee," he repeated, and, for the first time, Rory noticed that Jess was offering her a single red rose. She slowly reached for it, her eyes rarely straying from his. When Rory's hand finally reached its destination and wrapped delicately around the thin stem, Jess withdrew his own hand, letting his fingers slide across hers temptingly in the process. Rory's breath quickened.

"You wrote that poem," she said, her words both a question and a statement.

"I did."

"For me?"

"Of course." He smiled, amused by her reaction.

"And you… m-meant it?"

"Yeah," he said softly, instantly serious. "You're the only person who thinks I'm worth anything."

"Anyone who doesn't see your worth is crazy."

"You always give me more credit than I deserve."

"No, I don't," Rory contended sincerely. "Actually, you deserve a lot more."

Jess moved his head back slightly, and, for an instant, his surprised pleasure was reflected in a raised eyebrow and widened eyes. Although it only took a split second for him to recover his characteristic nonchalance, the rare glimpse into the passions behind the façade was enough for Rory to realize that, even though it hadn't been her intention, her reply had been interpreted romantically. His mistake didn't bother her though, and, because it was a flattering thought, she did nothing to correct him.

To Jess, she was regarding him with so much open honesty that he felt a shy smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Her comment had been a sweet symphony to his ears, and, without warning – yet with complete ease­ – he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Instinctively raising his hand to rest ever so lightly on her cheek, he chose not to think about what his actions meant and focused, instead, on the petal soft caress of her lips as she returned the gesture.

It was a simple, perfect little kiss.

Jess blinked in wonder as he lowered his hand and leaned away from Rory again. He'd meant to give her the flower, certainly – he'd even planned to pull her away from the party so he could deliver it in private – but the kiss… that had been a completely unpremeditated and totally unexpected occurrence. Looking at Rory, who stood calmly blinking back at him, he suspected it had come as a surprise to her as well.

He'd thought about kissing her a million times – when she'd yelled at him for disrespecting Luke, in the sleigh when she'd contended Dean was the perfect guy for her, on the bridge – but, in the past, he'd always stopped himself. This time though, something had been different; the kiss had seemed like the most natural thing in the world. But now that it was over, he couldn't help remembering why he'd always held back in the past. 

"Sorry," he murmured with slight pangs of anxiety and embarrassment, meeting her eyes timidly. "I don't know why I did that. It just seemed like..."

"Yeah, it did..." she agreed. It was then that Jess recognized the look of calm and understanding on her face. The look relaxed him, and he ceased his struggle for the right words. He knew she understood how the moment had worked its magic on him. He knew it had worked its magic on both of them.

Rory stared at him, loving the way he suddenly seemed so innocent and unsure. His softened features made him even more attractive in her eyes. Her breath escaped her parted lips in unhurried gasps, and, as she noticed the way his foggy, frosted breath swirled together with hers in the short space between them, she remembered the warm feel of it on her lips_. It had felt so right, so perfect,_ she thought. Like the time for it had come, and, dutifully, she and Jess were merely carrying out cosmic commands.

The only concern weighing on her mind, and wracking her body with guilt, was that she'd been kissing Jess even while knowing, at any moment, Dean could find them there. Even more disturbing, she realized, was her first thought had been that Dean shouldn't catch her kissing Jess, not that she should have been kissing Dean instead.

Jess looked into Rory's crystalline blue eyes and tried to figure out what thoughts might be running through her mind. He couldn't help but feel an ache of disappointment when she broke his gaze and glanced in the direction of the party. He wasn't sure what the gesture meant. The look on her face didn't suggest that she wanted to go; quite the opposite, she looked like she really wanted to stay. But, despite what her face was saying, Jess knew Rory well enough to recognize the guilt she must be feeling – a guilt that he didn't share. Nevertheless, he decided to make it easier on her.

"You should go, Rory," he said gently. "Everyone's probably looking for you."

"Yeah," Rory reluctantly agreed, turning her eyes back to his. "I should probably find my mom." 

"Ok," Jess said, nodding stoically. As much as he wanted to find out if their second kiss would surpass the first, he didn't want to push her. She looked at him a moment longer and then turned to go. Before she could take that first step away from him, however, she shocked Jess by turning back to him and moving closer instead. Tentatively, she laid her hand on his shoulder and, leaning forward, placed a small kiss on his cheek. He couldn't help but grin and look at her questioningly as she pulled away. 

"Thank you for all the presents," she said with a shy smile.

"Anytime," he answered, nonchalant even as his eyes took on a mischievous glint. 

"I'll see you."

He smirked. "I think you will."

***

From under the patio lanterns in the gazebo, Lorelai watched poor, manhandled Dean flee Miss Patty's vicinity and smiled sympathetically. _Poor boy is gonna need ten showers to wash the scariness of that encounter off him_.

"Lorelai, Sweetie, I've been looking for you," Miss Patty said, drawing Lorelai's attention away from Dean and back to the object of her ire.

"Really, Patty? That's funny because I've been looking for you too," Lorelai said coldly, giving the woman her sternest face.

"You have?" Patty asked innocently. "Why's that?"

"You're my Secret Santa."

"Oh, I'm found out!" Miss Patty said with a devilish grin. "What gave me away?"

"What gave you away?" Lorelai asked incredulously. "Well, there's only one person I know who insists on setting me up on dates. Unnecessary dates, might I add." Lorelai took a breath and calmed herself down. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Miss Patty. Really, I do, but I'm capable of arranging my own dates."

"A little push now and then never hurts." 

"If you'd been on those dates, you'd be retracting that statement right now," Lorelai half-joked.

"I'm sure they couldn't have been that bad," Miss Patty said confidently. "You didn't have any fun at all?"

Lorelai opened her mouth to say something and then shut it again. If nothing else, the dates _had_ been good for a few laughs.

Miss Patty smiled in satisfaction. 

"That isn't the point," Lorelai asserted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dear," Miss Patty drawled, suppressing her smile. "What is the point then?"

"The point," Lorelai began, flustered. "The point, Miss Patty, is that I would like it – no, I would _love_ it – if you would stop trying to find me a husband."

"I just want you to be happy."

"I know that," Lorelai answered, softening. "I do, but what would make me very happy is if no more strange men show up on my doorstep."

"All right. If you insist." Miss Patty pouted disapprovingly. 

"Thank you!" Lorelai said gratefully. "And… thank you for the gifts, as nightmarishly unwanted as they were." 

"You're very welcome, Darling," Miss Patty murmured. "A pretty thing like you _should_ have a date every night, you know."

"Um. Thanks. But Patty, we understand each other now, right?" Lorelai pressed, squinting her eyes at the woman. "You're not going to do any more matchmaking. Last night was the last date."

"Sure, sure, Honey. I promise I won't send any more hotties to your doorstep. From now on, you'll set up all your dates yourself." She patted Lorelai's arm distractedly. Someone to Lorelai's left had caught Miss Patty's eye. Lorelai looked on as Patty called Luke over to them.

"Lorelai, Dear, it's Christmas Eve. You get your last gift tonight," Patty purred. Lorelai and Luke looked at the woman blankly. Miss Patty smirked and pointed upward. She'd positioned them under the mistletoe.

"Patty, you promised!" Lorelai protested loudly.

"Now, I did nothing of the sort," Miss Patty said sweetly. "This isn't your doorstep." Smiling slyly, she chuckled and winked at her two victims. "Remember now, one must never mess with tradition. It's bad karma," and with that, she took one last look at them and then sauntered over to a poor, unsuspecting gentleman.

Lorelai stared after her, mouth hanging open, wide-eyed and amazed at the woman's gall. 

"What was that all about?" Luke asked, confused, as usual, by the Stars Hollow antics. 

Turning to him, Lorelai said helplessly, "Patty was my Secret Santa."

"Ah." Luke nodded, understanding completely. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Not as sorry as I am, but thanks."

"So what'd she give you?"

"Four dates."

"Ah," Luke uttered, deciding he didn't want details. "Well, you know," he continued, changing the subject. "Since we're talking about Secret Santas…"

"Yes?" Lorelai inquired in a singsong voice. A small smile curved the corners of her lips, and there was a definite gleam in her eye.

"I suppose I should thank you."

"Moi?" Lorelai asked, widening her eyes and holding her open palm to her chest questioningly. "Why, whatever would you have to thank me for, Luke?"

Thanks to years of practice, he somehow managed to keep a straight face during her innocent act. His eyes, however, were dancing. "Bert is grateful for the company," he said simply.

At his words, Lorelai's grin spread all the way across her face. "You loved Ernie, didn't you? I just knew you'd love him. I just about died when I saw that Ernie doll in the carpenter's overalls."

"It gave you away, you know."

"Ah," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Everyone knows Secret Santa's no fun unless you figure out who has you before the big unveiling. I'm actually disappointed you didn't figure it out sooner."

"Well, the flannel shirt could've come from anyone."

"True. Your wardrobe choices are common knowledge around town," Lorelai agreed.

"And the toaster didn't exactly scream 'Lorelai,' especially since Jess liked it even more than I did."

"He did?" Lorelai said, cursing her luck. "I knew I shouldn't have been so thoughtful."

"It was nice of you."

"But now I'll never know if he could've mastered the Boomerang Toast."

"You'll live."

"Uh. I might not, Luke." Lorelai's glowing eyes popped open with indignation. "Promise me you'll keep the old toaster. Please. Pretty please," she begged.

"Why would I keep an old, broken toaster?"

"Because," Lorelai began, looking even more devilish than usual. "It'll make for a great April Fool's joke on Jess."

Luke smiled, encouraging Lorelai to continue. "Can't you just picture his face when he goes to make toast one morning, and it flies back in his face?"

"That would be kind of funny," Luke reluctantly agreed.

"Funny? It'd be priceless, Luke."

"Okay, okay, you win. I'll keep the old toaster."

"Make sure I have a camera with me that day, will ya? A picture's worth a thousand hours of non-stop, ruthless harassment."

Luke made a small, guttural noise that roughly translated to "will do."

"Don't worry. You'll definitely get a copy," she added.

"Me and the rest of the town."

Lorelai smiled. "Okay, so you couldn't figure it out from the flannel or the toaster, but c'mon, Luke, the third gift! I couldn't have been more obvious if I'd written my name on the tag."

"No. I still didn't know."

"Please. I may as well have written 'Luke's Secret Santa' on my forehead in 'Kinky in Helsinki' lipstick!"

"I thought it was Bootsie."

"You thought Bootsie had you?" Lorelai asked with a peal of laughter.

"Believe me, I was grateful when I finally realized it was you," he mumbled.

"I bet you look really cute in that Star Trek shirt. Did you put it on right away?" she prodded. Luke made the mistake of looking at her then, and she falsely interpreted the glance. "You did, didn't you? I bet you stood in front of the mirror and twirled around in circles, watching how it fanned out around you!"

"I take it back. I'd rather be Bootsie's Giftee," he said solemnly.

"Oh, please, you loved it. You're gonna wear it, aren't you? Just like the one you wore when you were a kid."

"I told you," Luke said, adopting his characteristically irritated voice. "I only wore that other shirt to make my aunt happy."

"Did your aunt live here?"

"No."

"Did she follow you wherever you went?"

"Of course not."

"Hmm… interesting," she contemplated. "If your aunt didn't live here or follo–"

"Feel free to stop at any time," Luke interrupted.

"Fine. I'll stop," Lorelai begrudgingly conceded. "But only because it's Christmas Eve, and I feel charitable. Besides, I think I've already proven my point."

Lorelai rocked back and forth on her heels. The paper bag she was carrying rustled as it bounced against her shins. Now that they'd both fallen silent, their eyes were drawn upwards again. As they saw the mistletoe, they emitted simultaneous sighs.

"It's still there," Lorelai stated.

"I see that."

"What do you think the odds are that it'll just miraculously disappear?"

"Not good."

"Right. Are we sure the tradition is what we think it is?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, I'm pretty sure we don't dance a jig."

"Darn. You seem like the type who likes to get jiggy. Think we can change the tradition?"

As embarrassing as it could be to kiss Lorelai, Luke would kiss her a million times before he'd succumb to getting jiggy. "Then it wouldn't be a tradition anymore," he said. 

"Right," Lorelai admitted, then a strange look crossed her face. "Oh, I can't believe I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" Luke asked.

"Your last present," Lorelai said happily.

"Oh no," he groaned.

"Yes, Luke. A Giftee must receive five gifts. I've only given you four."

"'And what is this fifth gift?' he asks, dreading the answer," Luke droned dryly.

"Close your eyes."

"What?" Luke cried, suddenly afraid. "I'm not gonna close my eyes. I won't be able to see what you're doing."

"Yeah, Luke, that's the point! Now, close 'em!" she ordered.

"No way! I can't even begin to imagine what horrible things you'll do if I close my eyes."

"I'll be good, I promise," Lorelai solemnly vowed.

"You think I'm gonna fall for that?"

"C'mon, Luke," she whined. "Close your eyes. Please. If I don't complete the Secret Santa five-gift tradition and give you this gift, I'll be forever cursed with bad karma. You heard Miss Patty."

"Miss Patty is insane."

"True," Lorelai agreed. "But we just don't mess with the powers that be."

"You've been watching too many late night tarot card infomercials."

"Are you gonna close your eyes or what?"

"Fine," Luke consented at last. "But you better not do anything fishy."

"I promise."

Slowly, Luke closed his eyes and waited. He heard Lorelai rustle around in her bag and then felt the heat of her body mere inches away from his. Immediately after that, she insolently plucked his beloved baseball cap off his head, allowing shocking cool air to swirl through his hair. He was just opening his mouth to protest when he felt her place another cap on his head and back away. Luke immediately recognized it was a different cap, so well did he know the feel of his old one.

"Okay, you can open your eyes."

Luke peered at her as he lifted his eyelids. "What did you do?" he asked suspiciously. He reached up to remove the new cap, but she placed a hand on his arm just in time.

"I gave you your last gift."

"What is it?"

"Nope, sorry. Secret Santa Code specifically states that that information can't be revealed. It does look good though," Lorelai approved.

"Do I even want to know what's on this baseball cap?"

"Probably not."

"Great," Luke moaned. He looked longingly at his old cap still clutched in her hand. She saw him looking and hid it in her bag.

"Hey, you're lucky you have that cap, Mister. See, I have this rule," Lorelai explained. "I can't kiss men unless they meet the proper headwear requirements."

"You have requirements that go beyond them just having a head?"

"You're a funny guy, Luke Danes," she answered sarcastically.

He grinned with pride and opened his mouth to respond when the sound of yelling stopped them both cold.

"What is this?" a high-pitched female voice howled.

Lorelai and Luke turned to locate the source of the ruckus and saw Kirk standing with a young, pretty, blonde teenager. She was visibly upset – her face turning various, unflattering shades of red – and she was waving a book in her hands.

"It's your last gift," Kirk said calmly, a contented smile on his face. "I'm your Secret Santa."

"_You're_ my Secret Santa? _You're_ the freak who's been giving me all those weird books?" the girl spat.

"Who is that?" Lorelai asked Luke. "Do you know?"

"I think her name's Shane. She's fairly new in town. Jess mentioned her once."

"Jess?"

"Yeah. She came into the diner one day and was flirting with him."

"Really?" Lorelai asked, intrigued by this interesting development.

Luke could just see the wheels turning in her head. He knew what she was thinking and immediately put a stop to it. "No, no. He ignored her, and she stomped out. I asked about her. Jess said she liked him. I asked if he liked her. He rolled his eyes and said 'No way.' End of discussion."

"Ah," Lorelai replied, somewhat disappointed that Jess hadn't taken the girl up on her offer. She couldn't really think of anything better than some other girl distracting him from Rory. She didn't have time to stew over it, though, because it was at that moment the screaming began again.

"This book is about a prostitute!" Shane yelled. "Why would you give me a book about a prostitute for Christmas?"

"I thought you'd like it," Kirk offered.

"Like it? It's another book! You thought I'd like _books_?" Shane screamed in annoyance.

"I thought you'd like _these_ books," Kirk replied honestly.

Suddenly understanding what Kirk meant, Shane slammed the gift into his chest. "Stay away from me, Freak!" she ordered before flouncing away angrily.

Kirk turned and watched her go, a look of disappointment on his face. Then he shrugged and sat down on a bench, opening the book himself.

Lorelai shook her head in amazement and turned back to Luke. "See, it could've been worse. Kirk could've been your Secret Santa."

"Good point," Luke agreed, meeting Lorelai's gaze.

Now that there were no more available distractions, an awkward silence lingered in the air. 

Finally, Luke spoke. "It's getting late."

"Yes, it is," Lorelai agreed.

"I don't think the mistletoe is gonna go anywhere so we should probably either get this kiss over with or prepare to stand here the rest of our lives."

"I didn't really wear appropriate shoes for a lifetime of standing in one place," Lorelai pointed out.

"And I'm not about to put Jess in charge of the diner."

Another pause.

"So…" Luke pushed. "If you're worried about that karma thing… I mean, personally, I think it's a bunch of baloney cooked up by irrational minds, but whatever you think."

Lorelai sighed again. "Well, I'm not pushing my luck. It's just one kiss, right?"

Luke shrugged. "Right. No big deal."

"It'll only take a second."

"If that," Luke agreed.

"Okay then."

"Okay." 

Lorelai took a self-conscious step towards him but without turning her body completely square to his. Through her eyelashes, she peered at him. _This is so weird_, she thought.

They looked at each other uncomfortably for another moment, and then – finally giving into tradition – they slowly leaned forward to exchange a simple, chaste peck on the lips. But if the kiss was supposed to be so casual, why was Lorelai suddenly developing a serious case of nerves? She didn't have time to consider the reasons, however, because a couple inches more and her lips came into contact with Luke's. 

Unexpectedly, they shared, not one, but _two_ innocent kisses, and, in that instant, the rules having already been broken, the third kiss took on a life of its own. Getting caught up in the moment, Lorelai swung towards him and wrapped her arm around his neck, carelessly dropping the bag that had earlier contained his last gift. At the same time, Luke softly, but firmly, placed his hand on her waist.

As Lorelai felt the comfortable warmth of his hand lingering on her for the first time, excited tingles spread like wildfire through every cell of her body. She hadn't felt this way since she was a teenager – caught up in the moment, forgetting about everything else. She realized he was caught up as well when she felt his other hand slide with deliberation from the side of her waist to her shoulder. Invigorated, she pulled Luke's mouth harder against hers, her fingers toying with the delicious strands of hair curling out from under his cap. He reciprocated by deepening the kiss, and she just barely managed to stifle a moan. 

She wasn't supposed to feel this way – this was Luke. 

Jolting back to reality, she tentatively loosened her grip on Luke's neck and pulled away. She took a second to glance at his eyes and saw a reflection of the same surprise and worry she was feeling. Backing away, she had no idea what to say. 

Thankfully, Luke, though still dazed, managed to recover quickly enough to ease the situation. The labored breath he took beforehand, however, did not go unnoticed by Lorelai. Shifting a little, he reached up to remove her gift from his head and then dropped his eyes to look at it. A smile crept across his face as he saw the words, "I ♥ Jimmy Buffett," written across the front. 

"Funny," he said sarcastically, glancing back up at her.

"It is, isn't it?" Lorelai said awkwardly, returning his smile. Her heart was still fluttering.

"Well, I should probably get back to the diner." Luke gulped. "There's probably a line of customers demanding post-party coffee."

"Yeah, me too. Well, I mean, not to the diner but away. I should go away. I mean, home. I should go home."

"Right. Well, thank you for this," Luke said, holding up the hat. Bashfully, his eyes fell to the gazebo floor and to the bag she'd dropped earlier. He fumbled slightly as he picked the bag up. "And for the other gifts."

"It was my pleasure," Lorelai replied warmly. "Thank you for…" She paused, not sure what she was saying. "Um… for… you know…"

"Sure," Luke saved her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll need my coffee fix."

"Okay. Merry Christmas, Lorelai."

"Merry Christmas, Luke."

They both reeled around and took off down opposite gazebo stairs.

***

Gazing at his reflection in a red Christmas bulb that adorned the traditional Stars Hollow tree, Dean shuddered in revulsion. He'd been trying for a while now to forget about his encounter with Miss Patty, but it just kept creeping its way back into his thoughts. After Dean had revealed himself as Miss Patty's Secret Santa, she had practically leapt into his arms, wrapping him enthusiastically in her own. It had happened so fast that, Dean couldn't be sure, but he thought that, in the process, she had also let her hand drop to his butt. Thankfully, Lorelai had stepped in then, and, since Lorelai was apparently of more interest to Miss Patty than Dean was, he had been freed.

He'd immediately bolted down the gazebo stairs and high-tailed it across the lawn, aiming to get lost within the crowd surrounding the Christmas tree. He'd hoped the distance would ease his disturbed mind. No such luck. 

Now, finally giving up and turning away from the tree, he was about to go in search of Rory when he heard the voice of his sister calling out to him from behind. The sound of the familiar voice relaxed him and finally removed from his mind the troubling image of Miss Patty's hand on his ass.

"What is it, Clara?" Dean asked as he stopped and turned to face her.

"Your Secret Santa told me to give you this," she uttered in her sweet high-pitched voice.

"My Secret Santa, huh," Dean smiled knowingly. Rory was really pulling out all the stops, sending his sister as a messenger.

"Yeah," Clara said, her face not mirroring any of the amusement Dean's expressed. Clara, Dean realized, was too young to appreciate the love between him and Rory. Clara handed him a simple envelope and headed back over to where her friends were congregating.

As soon as he was alone, Dean pulled a note and a ticket from the envelope. The ticket was for _The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers _for the following week. Dean smiled. And here, all this time, he'd thought Rory hadn't wanted to see that movie. Turns out, she had just wanted to surprise him with a ticket.

Dean turned to the note. It read:

"I bought two tickets for a special night out, and I can't wait to share this experience with you. Come find the matching ticket at the Stars Hollow Theatre. There, you will also find me."

Dean chuckled. No wonder Rory had wanted to come to the party separately. She wasn't at the party at all! She was waiting for him at the theatre. Dean took a moment to ponder his good fortune. He held the note a little closer to his chest and looked up with a grin. The lanterns, all around the square, bounced off the twinkle in his eyes.

Dean nearly skipped as he headed across the snowy expanse of the town square. He was heading towards the movie theatre. He was heading towards love.

_Yup_, he thought as he strode across the lawn, the snow softly crunching under his footfalls. _Things are definitely looking up_. Recently, Dean had thought maybe Rory was starting to develop feelings for Jess Mariano. When Jess bought her basket and she had insisted on going off with him, Dean had felt sure of it. Certainly, she had given him plenty of other indications that she liked Jess as well. 

But now he realized that her intent had really been to follow the rules, to be polite. She really did love Dean only. Her recent gifts, having been consistently enthusiastic, were proof of that. Rory was acting more devoted, and by far more romantic, than she had in a long while. Perhaps more than she had ever been before. _I guess I was wrong to doubt her_.

As Dean neared the corner, leaving the boisterous music and laughter of the party behind him, he upgraded his gait to a joyous trot. The buildings on each side of the street seemed to hold in the warmth and glow of the night air, and the powdery snow, illuminated by the streetlights, cushioned all sound. The entire town was at the square and, here, all was silent and magical.

Dean couldn't wait to turn the corner onto Grove Street. He couldn't wait to get to the theatre and see Rory. He was glad she'd chosen a private locale. It would be so romantic to share this pristine moment with her alone.

When he saw her, at first, he would pretend to be surprised to find her there. But then he'd sweep her up in his arms. His kiss would let her know, without a doubt, that her gifts had renewed his faith in her and that he had fallen in love with her all over again. 

Finally, he reached the corner. The theatre, with all its small-town charm, was only about two doors away. Grasping the pole on the corner façade of the drugstore, he leapt and swung his body around it. But when his feet hit the sidewalk again on the other side of the pole, he skidded to a stop. He blinked as his eyes came to alight, not on the familiar dark-haired beauty of Rory, but on the sight of blond hair glistening under the streetlights as brightly as the snow all around them – by the sight of a light brown, woolen coat that was not Rory's, enveloping an attractive, lithe body. 

His Secret Santa was not Rory after all, he noted, but he was too shocked for his brain to register any sense of disappointment. Dean knew this girl. She went to the same school as he did, and, in fact, he'd noticed her around a few times. Every time she'd caught his eye, she'd smiled warmly at him, and, truth be told, although he'd never given the glances much thought, deep down, he had always kind of sensed she liked him. The knowledge had always been flattering.

She must have heard his footsteps crunching to a stop because she turned to face him then, and her face lit up in a charming, shy smile. The intent of his pounding heart was instantly shifted from excitement at the thought of seeing Rory to a nervous but pleased flutter at the thought of the unknown. He felt like he was dreaming. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to be noticing the beauty of this girl who was not his girlfriend.

"Linda," he said as he inched his way towards her, and, at the sound of his voice, her smile lit up even more.

"Hi, Dean," she spoke shyly, her eyes ducking down briefly. By the time she looked up again, her eyes focusing on his face, he had stepped up to her. He was struck by how blue her eyes were. Not the faded icy blue-grey of Rory's but a bluer blue. A blue that was so beautiful, it startled him. Blue eyes that somehow held him in a higher esteem than Rory's ever had.

Dean took a deep breath as the two of them stood beside the empty ticket booth under the marquee of the Stars Hollow Theatre. "So, you're the one who's been giving me all those presents?"

"Yeah. I hope you liked them."

Dean smiled as a feeling of calm overcame him. "Yeah, I did." Dean thought back to the gifts he'd received. He'd liked the gifts so much, he'd fallen in love with the gift-giver. Or, at least, so he'd thought. Had that been Linda's intention all along?

***

That night, Rory padded tiredly into her mother's darkened room and climbed up on the bed. Rory had returned from the party first, and, needing time to think about what had happened with Jess, she'd gone straight to bed. An hour later, she'd heard her mother walk through the front door and head straight upstairs to her own room. Rory had tossed and turned for a while, but she could not fall asleep. She needed to talk to her mom. 

"Mom?" she whispered, feeling a little guilty about waking her up.

"Hey, Hun," Lorelai mumbled, not sounding nearly as groggy as Rory had expected.

"I'm sorry to wake you."

"Trust me, you didn't. Come here." Lorelai scooted over to the left side of the bed and lifted the blanket up so Rory could crawl under it. Rory snuggled down; the blankets were warm and cozy, unlike the frigid night air that engulfed the rest of the room. She began to relax, already feeling a little bit better.

"So what's up?" Lorelai asked once Rory was comfortably situated.

"Nothing," Rory lied. "I just couldn't sleep so I felt like talking to you."

"Mm… what about?" Lorelai could tell that Rory was beating around the bush. She was too tired to push the issue though; she knew, when Rory was ready, she'd tell her whatever she needed to say.

"I dunno."

"Well, this was fun," Lorelai joked. "Thanks for the deep discussion."

Rory sighed. She couldn't see her mother's face in the darkness, but she could picture the amused expression perfectly. "Well…" Rory began. "You never told me about your fourth date."

"You came in here at…" Lorelai paused as she looked at the bedside clock. "1:07 in the morning to ask me to relive one of my many painful dates, courtesy of Miss Patty?"

"I need a distraction," Rory said honestly. Her remark piqued Lorelai's interest, but she decided to let it slide.

"All right, just for you, I'll relive it, but I expect some sort of compensation in the future."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Lucky Bachelor #4 was Stanley. He took me to that new French restaurant in Hartford – the one my mother was raving about last Friday."

"Right," Rory acknowledged. "Big spender."

"You're not kidding! Appetizers there cost more than a year's worth of Harvard tuition. Anyway, we ordered our incredibly expensive drinks while waiting for our even more incredibly expensive dinner to arrive. He was talking about his job."

"What does Stanley do?" Rory interjected.

Lorelai was quiet for a moment, and then she said, as if surprised, "You know what? I don't even know. I was a little distracted. You'll know why in a second."

"Ooh, intrigue."

"So we were sitting there, and Stanley was talking so I was looking at him attentively, of course."

"Of course."

"And, all of a sudden, I started wondering if it was getting darker in the restaurant 'cause there seemed to be this shadow falling across his face."

"Spooky," Rory remarked.

"At first, I tried to ignore it, but the more time that went by, the more I noticed the shadow – this very _splotchy _shadow. It was bizarre. It was darker across his cheeks, but yet, around his eyes, it wasn't dark at all. I couldn't figure out where the light and shadow were coming from. And then, when the shadow got a little darker, I realized." 

"He's half-human, half-raccoon, isn't he?" 

"I wish," Lorelai muttered. "But no. He'd put self-tanning lotion on his face, and it was just starting to appear. And he'd done a _really_ bad job of it too. Now I ask you, my darling daughter and future student of Harvard, what kinda moron uses self-tanning lotion right before going out on a date?"

"Aw, Mom, he just wanted to impress you with his good looks," Rory cheekily replied.

"Well, he did make an impression. I definitely couldn't tear my eyes away from him; that's for sure. He was talking and trying to engage me in conversation, but I couldn't complete a thought because, every time I looked at that face, I had to stop myself from laughing."

"That's awful."

"Dinner was good though."

"Just goes to show that expensive dinners can't buy love," Rory pointed out sagely. Then, a thought occurring to her, she asked seriously, "Hey, do you think that Stanley tried to fake-bake because he knew we'd need a funny nickname for him? Bad-Tan Stan! It even rhymes."

"Well, if I'd known he was only trying to be considerate, I'd have agreed to the second date," Lorelai joked.

"Poor Bad-Tan. Someday, a woman will appreciate his efforts."

"Thank God that woman will not be me!"

"Well, I know these dates haven't exactly been love connections, but I firmly believe you have a Prince Charming out there," Rory assured her mother. "He's probably trying on coloured wigs or women's pantyhose as we speak." 

"Ah! Evil spawn!" Lorelai accused. She grabbed the blankets off Rory, exposing her Mr. Peanut pyjama-clad body to the frigid air yet again.

"Hey, brr! It's too cold! Give 'em back!"

"No way!"

"Mom! Please! I'll report you to child services."

"They'll take my side on this."

"Mom, I'm starting to shiver."

"Baby!" Lorelai heckled as she put the covers back on Rory.

"I'm sorry," Rory apologized. "I shouldn't have said that. After all, you and I both know that your Prince Charming prefers knee-high fishnets."

"Be careful, Child. I have a pillow, and I know how to use it."

"Okay, okay," Rory said, smiling. They both fell silent.

Lorelai's tale of woe had briefly distracted Rory from her own romantic entanglements, but now that it was quiet again, her thoughts turned back to Jess. After a few minutes, Rory gathered up her courage and said quietly, "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Yes," Lorelai stated in playful exasperation, answering a question of her own creation. "I agree. Joan and Melissa _did_ rob Halle Berry when they gave Jennifer Lopez the Golden Hanger Award this year. I mean, c'mon, _Jennifer Lopez_? _Both_ Halle and Nicole were so much more deserving."

Rory smiled. "I wholeheartedly agree… but that wasn't my question."

"Oh, sorry. Go on."

Rory took a deep breath. "Well, you know how you suggested before that maybe I was falling for Jess?" 

"Yeah," came the wary response. Rory was finally getting to the point of this little bedtime chat. _I guess the bush has been thoroughly beaten_, Lorelai thought, not particularly liking the direction the conversation was taking.

"Well, I need to know what you would think about it if I were."

"Falling for Jess?"

"Yeah," Rory answered softly.

Lorelai sighed and resigned herself to fate. She leaned back into the pillow. "Well, it would take some getting used to. But I guess I didn't like the idea of you going out with Dean at first either."

"But do you think that it would be OK?" Rory pushed.

"You know how I feel about Jess; I trust him about as far as I can throw him. But you, my child, are lighter, and I can throw you farther so I trust you."

"So it would be all right with you?"

"Well, I don't know about _that_, but unfortunately, it's not my decision. I know you won't make the same mistakes I did, but a mother worries all the same." She hesitated before asking, "So _have_ you fallen for Jess?"

"I don't know," Rory replied pensively. But inside, Rory's feelings had taken on a definite direction, and she suddenly wasn't quite as worried anymore. In fact, now that she'd talked to her mom about the whole thing, her eyes were starting to droop closed. As she started to fall asleep, she heard her mother's voice off in the distance muttering grumpily, "Those Danes men and the havoc they wreak."

Rory lifted her heavy eyelids and tried to peer in her mother's direction. "What did you say?" she murmured.

"Nothing. G'night." 

Lorelai soon heard Rory's breathing become steady with slumber. She, however, was still wide-awake and confused.

***

Luke had come home late from the Christmas Eve party in Town Square – a fact which, Jess had to admit, was very unusual. For starters, Luke wasn't exactly a festive person. But also, any event organized by their nemesis, Taylor Doose, would ordinarily send the man rushing home early, not strolling home late. Jess himself had only spent a few minutes at the party; he'd snuck away before Taylor could begin the opening remarks.

Now, Luke had been sitting on the couch for the last half-hour, slowly sipping a hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows. _Actually_, Jess surmised, looking at the cup. _It's probably cold by now_. There was a content, dopey smile playing on Luke's lips. His eyes were dazed, seemingly not seeing the wall to which he'd been allotting a good deal of his attention. Jess wondered what the hell Luke was thinking about.

Finally, Jess got tired of watching Luke's disturbing behaviour. He went into his room and retrieved a package. "Here. I got you something," Jess said casually as he came up behind the sofa and handed Luke a medium-sized, flat box.

"Oh! Thanks, Jess," Luke uttered, startled. Either Luke was surprised to receive a gift from Jess or he was surprised to hear another voice, besides the crazy ones yammering inside his head – or maybe both. "You didn't need to do that."

"Believe me, I did. Open it."

Luke tore the wrapping paper off the box and lifted the lid. Inside was an outdoorsy, grey knit sweater. "Hey, Jess! This is really nice."

"Yeah, well, the point is, it's not flannel."

Luke chuckled. "Thanks, I think."

Jess nodded, then walked around and sat down on the cushion at the far end of the couch. He leaned back and crossed his ankles, resting them on the coffee table.

"I got you something too, Jess. Hang on, I'll get it." Luke placed his mug on the table and stalked over to his own room. Jess followed him with his eyes, somewhat taken aback by the fact that Luke got him a gift. His own mother hadn't given him a gift in three years. On the way back, Luke apologized for not having wrapped it yet. He placed the box in Jess's hands.

"You got me a car CD stereo?" Jess asked, disbelieving but excited. 

"Yeah," Luke stated, his voice taking on the tone of a father proud of his son's initiative. "You've been putting in a lot of effort fixing up that old car of yours. You deserved something nice." Luke sat back down on the couch, sinking into the cushion in complete comfort.

"Thanks, Luke," Jess enthused, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "This is awesome." Jess shook his head in happy disbelief.

"It beats the AM dial."

"That it does," Jess agreed. 

"Plus, this way," Luke went on. "When you're cranking up the shrieking sounds of 'Twelve Foot Railroad Ties,' I can kick you _out_ of the apartment, and you can go listen to it somewhere _else_."

"'Twelve Foot Railroad Ties', Luke?" Jess laughed. "Do you perhaps mean 'Nine Inch Nails'?"

"Whatever it is you teenagers are listening to," Luke chuckled calmly in response. 

"Hey," Jess began. He was fully enjoying the evening. His kiss with Rory earlier, the tremendous gift, and now this moment of familial comfort with his uncle – all these added up to a strangely perfect night. "Sorry 'bout tackling you to the ground the other day."

"S'ok. Didn't hurt."

"It _totally_ hurt you, Old Man," Jess teased. Luke laughed it off.

"So who did you write that poem for, anyway?" Luke asked, deciding to push his luck.

Jess looked at his uncle, hesitating, not sure if he should tell him the truth. But, almost of its own free will, his mouth relaxed into a smile, and he heard himself say calmly, "Rory."

"Mmmm," Luke nodded. "She's a nice girl."

***

Dean lay awake on Christmas Eve. He knew Clara would be dragging him out of bed at the crack of dawn to open presents, and he'd likely be exhausted tomorrow, but try as he might, he could not fall asleep. He just kept thinking about Rory… and Linda.

_Two Towers_ had been playing at the theatres for a few days now, and he had tried unsuccessfully numerous times to make Rory as excited for the cinematic event as he was. He would have been extremely disappointed by her lacklustre response, had he not already been so busy preparing for Christmas.

But the fact remained that Dean wanted to see the movie, and Rory didn't. He'd heard what she'd said on the phone. In her opinion, the first movie hadn't lived up to the legacy of the first book, and she didn't want to spoil the second book as well. 

Really, when Dean thought about it, his preference for movies and hers for books was only one manifestation of a far more widespread, underlying lack of mutual interests. He preferred Battle Bots to ballroom dancing. She preferred Socrates to soccer. And lately, since Jess had moved to town, she'd preferred to completely ignore Dean rather than give or receive anything romantic from him.

He'd built her a car. When he'd thought the Secret Santa gifts were coming from her, he'd believed that she'd finally shown herself to be a kindred spirit. But, in reality, she'd made no such leaps of romantic faith towards him.

And now, Linda, a girl to whom he'd only ever given the briefest of attention, had already proven she had more in common with Dean than Rory did.

Linda had told him tonight that, if he wanted, she would give him both tickets to _Two Towers,_ and he could take anyone he liked. Now, Dean reminded himself that Rory didn't even want to see the movie. Really, it made much more sense to take Linda, a girl who was as excited to see it as he was. _Right?_

***

Please review and tune in for more on December 23, 2002.

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.


	7. The German Judge Awarded the Swans a 9 P...

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 ) **and CircleSky. 

**A Few Verses Short of a Christmas Carol**

**CHAPTER 7: The German Judge Awarded the Swans a 9.5 for Synchronization**

Stretching, Lorelai opened her eyes and glanced at the bedside clock. "9:14 am." She grinned, remembering what day it was. Even though she couldn't recall when she'd finally fallen asleep, she felt strangely refreshed and invigorated. For that she was thankful, as it was likely going to be a _very_ long day. She glanced over at her daughter, snuggled beneath the covers, sleeping soundly with a very content, very intriguing smile on her face. 

"Hey Sleeping Beauty! Roorrrr-rrrryyy," Lorelai sang softly, shaking her daughter awake. 

Rory squinted at her, blinded by the bright light that was streaming in through the window. As she brought her mind back from dreamland, the smile spread completely across her face, turning into a blissfully happy grin. "Merry Christmas, Mom," she mumbled cheerfully.

"'Bout time. I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away," Lorelai teased, not letting on that she too had just awoken. "What has you so happy? Good dream?"

"Mm… maybe," Rory said lazily, lifting her arms above her head and shaking the kinks out of her shoulders before sitting up and looking over at her mother. 

"What about?"

"Oh, nothing," Rory said innocently even as she was incapable of wiping the smile off her face. 

"C'mon, haven't I taught you anything?" Lorelai drolly reprimanded. "Dreams are that much better if you share 'em with the ones you love."

"In that case, what makes you think I'd share it with you?" Rory baited, jovial amusement flashing through her eyes.

"Oh, please! You know you love me!"

"Yeah?"

Lorelai scoffed. "How could you not? Not only am I the smartest person you've ever met, but I'm also the wittiest, the prettiest, and the classiest."

"Don't forget the most humble."

"How could I? Oh yeah, and I also have the most remarkable memory."

"Okay, you win," Rory conceded. "I _guess_ I love you."

"Not as much as I love you, Sassy Girl. Now about that dream…"

"Shouldn't you be jumping up and down on the bed, begging me to let you open your presents like every other year?" Rory asked, changing the subject. 

"You're looking at a calmer, more mature Lorelai Gilmore," Lorelai responded. "Besides, the presents aren't goin' anywhere, but your dream could fade. It's probably fading right now."

"Yep," Rory teased. "Guess I should've used Tide."

"I think you mean Cheer."

"My mistake." 

"Arg, Rory!" Lorelai moaned in whiny frustration. "Don't make me pull out my trump card. I was saving it for a rainy day."

"What trump card?" Rory asked nervously.

"My compensation for telling you about Bad-Tan. You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

Rory moaned. "I'm going downstairs to open presents," she said as she moved to climb out of bed.

"No way, Missy!" Lorelai ordered, grabbing her arm to stop her. "I want my compensation. You owe me. Sit back and dish the dirt!"

Rory grumpily sat back against the pillows. She'd wanted to keep this dream all for herself. Thinking back on it, in fact, brought a blush to her cheeks, and she smiled shyly.

"Ooh, now I'm _really_ curious," Lorelai cooed as she noticed Rory's reddened face. "Did you have another dirty dream about Michael Vartan?"

"Mom, that was your dream. Not mine."

"Oh right," Lorelai said, smiling at the memory. "That was such a good dream. Who knew all the things that Secret-Agent Man could do?" When Lorelai realized how much she sounded like Miss Patty, she cleared her throat and returned to the task at hand. "But we're not talking about me. Who, besides Mr. Vartan, could get a girl blushing like that?"

"Mom…" Rory groaned.

"Rory," Lorelai mocked. 

"Fine," she sighed. "I had a dream about someone you and I both know, and it's kind of embarrassing."

"Embarrassing… really? _Interesting._ Who do you and I both know?" Lorelai took in a deep, exaggerated breath. "Rory! Why I do declare! I'd never have guessed."

"Guessed what?" Rory asked, scared at where her mother's crazy mind could've gone. 

"You had a dirty dream about Taylor, didn't you? I knew all of that town meeting innuendo of his would get to you eventually. Was he wielding his giant gavel?"

As horrified as Rory was, she couldn't help but laugh. "That is so disturbing."

Lorelai shuddered. "Yeah, it kind of is, isn't it? I'm _so_ sorry."

"Apology accepted," Rory said, still chuckling a little.

"So…" Lorelai prodded. "You know I live for our banter, but those presents are calling my name, and, on principle, I cannot go open them until I yank this information out of you."

"You aren't gonna like it."

"It can't be any worse than Taylor." 

"You might think it is." 

"'Lorelai! Lorelai!' Can you hear those gifts, Rory? They're getting upset with me. They're probably unravelling their ribbons right now to use as a noose." Even as Lorelai spoke, she was trying to come up with dream candidates. Suddenly, the answer was obvious, and her face fell a little. "Wow, Rory. This dream had to do with a certain seventeen-year-old diner boy, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Rory whispered, blushing again.

"Geez!" Lorelai grinned conspiratorially. "How dirty _was_ this dream?"

"It wasn't. It was nice."

"Nice, huh?" Lorelai asked. "How nice?"

"Really nice," Rory answered, the grin bright on her face again.

"A really nice dream about Jess. I can't imagine." Lorelai looked at her daughter curiously. "Did something happen yesterday at the party? I didn't see you the whole night."

"No!" Rory said much too forcefully. 

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much. What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened. How can you possibly not be dying to open your presents?"

"Oh!" Lorelai cheered, coming to another sudden realization. "Jess _was_ your Secret Santa, wasn't he? I was right! Dang, I knew I should've bet money." Rory fell silent. Lorelai looked at her closely and, seeing the serious expression on her face, said gently, "He _was_ your Secret Santa, right?"

"Yeah," Rory answered quietly.

"And that's what led to our little Christmas Eve powwow last night. You want to start seeing him."

"I don't know." Rory's heart started thumping wildly at the possibility. 

"If you were smiling that much because of a dream, Honey, I think you know. I think we both know."

"I'm not going to hurt Dean. I _won't_ hurt Dean."

"As much as I really hate to say this, Rory, because you know how I feel about Jess and you know how much I like Dean… I think you'll hurt Dean more if you stay with him when you have feelings for someone else. So _if_ you want to be with Jess…"

"I care about Dean. I care about Dean so much, Mom. But when I'm with Jess…"

"It's different," Lorelai finished for her.

"He reads the books I read. He listens to the music I like. He's so smart, Mom," Rory said, desperately wanting her mom to understand. "You wouldn't believe how smart he is because he doesn't let on. And he can be so infuriatingly closed-off sometimes, you know that, but then he does something that's so amazing and so unexpected that I just can't be mad at him."

"You really like him."

Rory blushed. "I think I do… maybe. Are you mad?"

"No," Lorelai said honestly. "I just want you to be happy, and if Real-Jess somehow manages to make you as happy as Dream-Jess did this morning, how could I be mad about that? It's nice to see you happy."

Rory smiled and leaned her head on her mother's shoulder. Lorelai looked down at Rory with a childlike grin. "Hey Kiddo! It's Christmas."

"Yes, it is," Rory agreed. She caught the glint in her mother's eyes and knew what was coming next. 

Lorelai squealed and leapt up. She started jumping up and down on the bed, causing Rory's reclined body to bounce against the mattress. "Rory! Rory! Can we open presents now? Puh-lease! Pretty please!!!" 

Rory laughed. "Let's go."

***

An hour later, pieces of holiday wrapping paper debris lay strewn around the Gilmores' Christmas tree. Neither woman noticed the mess they'd made though, instead focusing on the gift they'd most recently unwrapped.

"Rory, I just love this!" Lorelai fawned as she checked out the track listing on the back of the bootleg Bangles CD she'd just opened. "An acoustic version of 'Eternal Flame'? Does life _get_ any better than that? I'm putting it in." 

Rory silently thanked Lane's ingenuity as she watched her mother leap up and stumble through the flood of wrapping paper towards the CD player. Lorelai abruptly stopped the Chipmunk's rendition of "Silent Night" and popped in the Bangles. She skipped forward to the desired track and turned to walk back to Rory. As the song started, Lorelai paused to sigh happily and then, shoving empty boxes out of the way, plopped back down on the floor. "How'd I get so lucky?" she asked her daughter.

"You must have good karma. You behaved yourself in a former life," Rory suggested.

"Behaved myself, huh? Go figure." Lorelai lifted up some paper and glanced around.

"What are you looking for? I think we opened them all."

"No, I know there's one more for you here somewhere," she said, hurling paper left and right. "The talk of karma reminded me."

"Huh?" Rory gave her mom a confused look.

Lorelai got down on her hands and knees and crawled across the mounds of paper towards the tree, flinging boxes and bags left and right. "A-ha! Here it is!" she cheered triumphantly before crawling back towards Rory and setting a flat, wrapped box on her lap.

Rory smiled. "Looks like clothes to me."

"I guess you'll just have to open it!" 

Rory tore into the paper and slipped her fingers along the side of the box, releasing the tape. She lifted the lid, shoved some tissue paper aside, and lifted out a baby blue, short-sleeved T-shirt. As she unfolded it, a wide grin spread across her face. Written across the shirt in flowing pink script was the phrase, "Oy with the Poodles Already!"

"Our catchphrase is officially immortalized," Lorelai declared, looking to Rory for her reaction. 

"I love it, Mom! It's so great!"

"It matches your eyes," Lorelai pointed out. "Not only does it make a fabulous statement, but it'll also make you look even more breathtakingly gorgeous."

Rory set the shirt back in the box and hugged her mother tightly. 

"I'm glad you like it, Sweetie," Lorelai said gratefully as they pulled away.

"You always give the best presents."

"You don't do so bad yourself. We really cleaned up this year."

"That we did," Rory agreed. "Hey, did you get this shirt made when you did Luke's cap?"

"I did."

"Very sly of you. I can't believe you kept it a secret."

"Sometimes I amaze even myself."

"Hey, speaking of Luke, how did he like his gift? I can't believe I forgot to ask earlier."

"You had a lot on your mind," Lorelai said dismissively. "Wow… look at the mess we made." She dragged herself up from the floor and retrieved the black garbage bag they'd brought into the room earlier and then promptly ignored. 

"Well, did he like it?" Rory asked again, standing to help Lorelai shove the paper remnants into the bag.

"He seemed to, yeah."

"How'd you give it to him?"

"I made him close his eyes, and I switched his new hat for his old one."

"I bet that drove him crazy."

"Indeed, it did."

"So what'd he do?"

"Well, he moaned, groaned, complained, and kissed me," Lorelai prattled off, trying to sound casual.

Rory paused with her hand in mid-air, holding a pile of wrapping paper above the garbage bag. She stared at her mother, wide-eyed. "He what?"

"It's not what you think," Lorelai contended. "Patty lured us under some mistletoe. We didn't have a choice."

"So you just gave each other a quick kiss … on the cheek or something?"

Lorelai looked up and met Rory's eyes. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Rory repeated. "What does that mean?"

"It might have been three kisses."

Rory's eyes went even wider. She dropped the paper on the floor and moved to sit down on the couch, dragging her mother with her. Once seated and facing each other, she said excitedly, "You kissed Luke… three times… last night… and you are _just_ telling me now?"

"It's really not a big deal."

"It isn't? They were just three small, irrelevant kisses?"

"Well… what do you classify as small?"

"Oh my God, Mom! This is so exciting!"

"This isn't exciting, Rory. Please calm down… I'm already wigged out enough."

"They weren't good?"

"That's the problem. They were amazing," Lorelai sighed happily, thinking back to the night before. "I don't know where Luke learned to kiss like that. It was like I was in an old movie or something."

"So what happened afterwards?"

"Um… he thanked me for the gifts. I thanked him for… something."

Rory giggled. It sounded very familiar. "You thanked him? That was very polite."

"And the tables are turned," Lorelai groaned. "Don't be mean to me! Can't you see I'm stressed?"

"Sorry," Rory apologized, smirking. "So you thanked each other and then…"

"We walked away, and I haven't talked to him since."

"Wow. What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know, Hun. It's confusing. This is Luke."

"Yeah, Mom. This is Luke. Luke who has always been there for you and who treats you better than anyone and who has never been anything but wonderful to us."

"You aren't helping. I need to think about this. I just need time to think."

"OK," Rory agreed. "But just for the record, I think this could be a really good thing."

"For the record, I _might_ think so too… maybe," Lorelai said with a smile. "But now that you and Jess might… I mean, would it be weird for you?"

"No," Rory said honestly. "We can't help that the best ones are all Danes."

"So true, Child. So true."

"We should finish cleaning up. We hafta get ready for Grandma and Grandpa's soon."

"Ugh!" Lorelai groaned. "Just what I need. A full day of Christmas cheer and merriment courtesy of Richard and Emily Gilmore. You better love Chilton because I'm sacrificing my youthful good looks so you can go there. Every second with them ages me by at least a year."

Rory smiled sympathetically and started picking up the paper scraps again.

"Hey, Ror," Lorelai said softly. When Rory looked up, she continued, "As soon as I figure this all out, I'll let you know."

"I know you will." Rory smiled. Then, together, they finished cleaning up the mess that was their living room.

***

"Mom! C'mon!" Rory yelled up the stairs. "You've been up there forever. Grandma and Grandpa are going to be expecting us soon."

"Mommy's making herself pretty," Lorelai yelled back. "It's wrong to hurry the process."

"I didn't realize we were trying to impress anyone."

Lorelai peeked her head around the corner at the top of the stairs. "Impress? Are you kidding? I'm trying to find the outfit that will _most_ horrify my mother. And with my whole closet full of choices, I'm finding it very hard to pick just one. Hey, you look great," she said, noticing Rory's outfit for the first time. "Except for the blatant lack of an 'Oy with the Poodles Already' T-shirt."

"As much as I enjoyed you endlessly begging me to put it on, I just don't think Grandma and Grandpa will appreciate the humour of it."

"You're no fun!"

"Mom! Go find an outfit! They probably want us there before Easter."

"Do you think they'd actually wait that long? Because that isn't such a bad idea."

"Go!" Rory ordered, shooing her mother with her hand. When she saw Lorelai retreat back down the hallway, she returned to her place on the couch, picked up her book, and began reading and furiously scribbling.

A good half-hour later, Lorelai sauntered down the stairs. "Okay, Sweets, I think I've finally found the perfect balance between sophisticated sluttiness and trampy elegance. Thoughts?"

Rory looked up from her book and appraised her mother, grateful to find her in a demure but funky wine-coloured dress. "You look purty," Rory said, smiling. "Hey, is that dress new?"

"Why, yes it is! 'Tis better to give than to receive… but, as we Gilmores know, 'tis _even_ better to give, receive, and give to oneself!" 

Rory giggled. "We Gilmores are wise beyond our years."

"So have I adequately captured the street-walking, corner-standing look I was goin' for?"

"Richard Gere should be climbing up our fire escape with a bouquet of flowers any second now."

"Mission accomplished," Lorelai said proudly. "Okay, I'm putting my shoes on and grabbing coats. Which one do you want? I was thinking the Michael Jackson 'Thriller' knockoff might go well with your outfit. Any complaints?"

"I think my regular old black, wool, knee-length coat should suffice this evening, but nice try."

"Okay, I'll grab it."

"Hey Mom. Can you give me a couple minutes? I only have two pages left in this chapter."

"Well, well, look who's stalling now!"

"I'm not stalling. I just need to finish this chapter."

"Homework?" Lorelai asked, watching as Rory bent her head back over her book. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't do homework until _after_ Christmas."

"This isn't homework," Rory said as she scribbled her pen across the side margin of a page.

"Rory! What are you doing?" Lorelai asked with fake horror. "Are you vandalizing that book?"

"No," Rory answered, looking up. "Go put on your shoes. When I finish these pages, we are out that door, and no amount of you saying, 'Oops! I seem to have forgotten my purse!' or 'Oops, I have a run in my pantyhose!' is gonna get us back in this house."

"You're mean."

"You're dawdling."

"Hey, you're the one holding up the show here! When my mother asks why we're late, I'm going to tell them that I was ready to go, and _you_ weren't."

"Fine. Be sure to stick out your tongue too. We wouldn't want you cutting corners on the childish behaviour routine. Now get the coats."

"Whatcha reading anyway?"

"Mom!"

"Geez. I'm going, I'm going!" Lorelai moped, dragging herself slowly towards the closet. Rory rolled her eyes and returned to her book.

***

Much later that evening, Lorelai watched Rory as she exited the jeep. "You're sure you don't want to come with me?" she asked desperately.

"Mom, I promised Dean I'd meet him."

"I know, I know."

"Besides, it's not like you can avoid this forever."

"Why do you always have to be so rational?"

"It's a curse," Rory answered before sending her mom a reassuring smile and heading towards Dean's.

As Rory walked away, Lorelai looked out at the building in front of her. Then, sighing, she reached into the backseat of the vehicle to retrieve a package and opened the door. She stepped out into the snowy wonderland, taking a moment to appreciate the frosty beauty around her, and then walked around the jeep and through the diner door.

As soon as she entered, her eyes flew straight to the counter and to the man standing behind it. He didn't look up. She glanced around the room at the various Stars Hollow residents who were innocently eating their meals and silently cursed and thanked them at the same time. Then, she walked towards the counter and casually sat down on a stool.

"Hey! What's a girl gotta do to get some coffee around here?" she teased, causing Luke to look up. She tried to gauge his reaction, and she swore she could've seen something there, but it was gone before she had time to identify it.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming in today," Luke said with a smile before turning to grab the pot of coffee and a giant mug. 

"And deny myself of essential nourishment – life's drink – the reason for my existence? No way! Fill 'er up, Mister."

Luke poured the coffee into her cup and watched as she took a giant sip. "Mmm…" she praised.

"How was Christmas at your parents'?"

"Actually," she answered, holding the mug just below her mouth. "It wasn't so bad."

"Really?" Luke asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. My mother fired another maid – which, as you may or may not know, is a regular occurrence at the Gilmore Manor – but somehow my dad managed to convince her to give the poor woman a second chance. They actually almost seemed to be in the holiday spirit, my parents."

"That's good," Luke said. 

"It was," Lorelai agreed before taking another gulp of coffee. "Of course, I still suspect the maid won't last 'til the end of the week."

"Well, at least she got one more day," Luke pointed out.

"When it comes to working for Emily Gilmore, that, My Friend, is a Christmas miracle."

Luke chuckled, his eyes making contact with Lorelai's. He quickly averted them and, in doing so, happened to turn his gaze to her now-empty coffee mug. "You want a refill?"

"You're offering me a refill?" Lorelai asked, eyes wide. "Already?"

"It's Christmas," Luke grumbled.

"Aw, Luke, you big softie! A refill would be great."

Luke turned to grab the coffeepot off its warmer, and, when he turned back, a wrapped package lay on the counter before him. 

"What's this?" he asked, pointing at the gift with one hand as he filled her cup with the other.

"Umm… I think it's a Christmas present, Luke."

"Thanks, I figured that out. I meant, who's it for?"

"You."

"Me? You already gave me my five gifts."

"I know," Lorelai said, trying to sound nonchalant. "But this isn't from a Secret Santa to a Giftee. This one's from me to you."

Luke gave her a curious look. 

"Go on, Luke. Open it."

As Lorelai watched expectantly, Luke lifted the gift and slowly removed the wrapping paper. Seeing what lay inside, he found himself speechless. He looked down at the framed photo in amazement. He hadn't seen this picture in years. 

Even though he'd only been three or four, he remembered the moment perfectly. He'd spent the whole day with his dad in the hardware store, just watching him work and throwing out a ton of questions about the tools. Towards the end of the day, a young woman had walked in and, upon seeing the two of them together, had insisted on taking a picture. His dad had complained, of course, claiming that a photo would be a bad idea. Nevertheless, he'd soon lifted Luke up to stand on the counter in front of him, and, wrapping his arms around him protectively, he'd leaned to the side. He'd even flashed his distinctive, charming smile. His dad had figured they'd never actually see the picture, but about a month later, they received it in the mail. Luke remembered that his dad had given it to him for "safekeeping."

Lorelai saw the faraway look in Luke's eyes and began to doubt herself. Hesitantly, she interrupted his thoughts. "Do you like it?"

"Where'd you find this?" Luke asked, looking up at her.

"Jess did me a favour."

"Jess?"

"Yeah. I guess he's good for something," she joked. "Unless you hate it, in which case it was _all_ his idea."

"Thank you," Luke said genuinely, and Lorelai knew just by his tone of voice and the look on his face that he liked it. He didn't need to say it out loud.

"You're welcome," Lorelai said, relaxing. "Your dad was quite the babe."

Luke smiled proudly. "The ladies seemed to like him."

"I bet they did." She paused, then forged ahead. "There's definitely a resemblance."

"Nah."

"Yeah, I bet your dad would be really proud if he could see you today."

Luke looked at her for a moment and then sighed. "Jess isn't around today so I better go take some orders."

"Don't let me stop ya. I should head out anyway. It's been a long day."

"OK," Luke said. He watched as Lorelai stood and began to put on her coat. As she turned to go, he stopped her. "Hey Lorelai."

She swung around to look at him. "Yeah?"

"I have something for you too."

"You do?" Lorelai asked, looking around for a package.

Luke smiled. "You live in Stars Hollow," he stated.

Perplexed, she looked at him. "Yes, I do," she said slowly.

"Have you ever noticed how you have this tendency to follow me around?"

"I do not!" Lorelai protested.

"'Luke, can I have some coffee? Luke, give me free food!'" Luke imitated. 

"Okay, when it comes to food, I guess I follow you… a little."

"You live here… you follow me around…" Luke repeated.

Lorelai smiled suspiciously, recognizing the words even though she wasn't quite sure why or how. "Luke, I don't get it."

She watched Luke as he quickly glanced around the diner, then slowly unbuttoned the top few buttons of his flannel shirt. Even though she could only see a small part of the shirt he wore underneath, she immediately recognized the tip of the Starship Enterprise. She grinned widely. "Why, Luke Danes!" she teased as he re-buttoned his shirt before anyone else got a glimpse. "Did you wear that just for me?"

Luke paused as though contemplating his next move. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he leaned forward across the counter and said quietly, "I just want to make you happy."

Lorelai saw the sincerity on his face and heard the hope in his voice. Her heart began beating erratically as everything finally became clear. She knew exactly what she wanted. Her eyes twinkled devilishly as she moved closer to the counter. "What I wouldn't give for some mistletoe right now."

"I could find some," Luke suggested, looking at her hopefully.

"Ah, who needs it?" she asked mischievously before impulsively leaning over the counter and joining her lips to his. 

***

The doorbell chimed, and Dean wrung his hands in response. He knew Rory was on her way over. She'd told him she'd come by once she returned from Christmas dinner at her grandparents' house in Hartford.

"I got it, Mom!" Dean called out towards the kitchen as he headed the opposite direction toward the foyer. Grasping the cold knob, he pulled the door open to reveal a bundled-up Rory. Her eyes were bright and shining with Christmas enthusiasm: like someone who had just opened presents or like someone for whom the appreciation of a snowfall had been ingrained. Her cheeks and nose were rosy, a colour just short of Santa Claus Cherry. The ends of her hair curled up around the bottom edge of her burgundy scarf, and the glow of the streetlights caught a few stray hairs in a sort of halo.

"Hey!" Dean said, hoping his voice was just the right amount of cheery. He felt uneasy about what he was about to ask of his girlfriend on an otherwise perfect Christmas evening.

"Merry Christmas!" she chimed and placed her hands on his shoulders. The gesture meant he was to lean down and kiss her, and so that was what he did. Since she was still standing on the outside steps, he had to bend down a little further than usual. He loved to kiss Rory, but the thought of it today didn't mix well with the subject on his mind. The two items melded inside him, like so much kneaded dough, and he felt queasy.

The kiss, however, loosened him up a bit. "Merry Christmas," he drawled as their lips drew apart. 

"Let's go for a walk," she suggested. "The snowfall is so pretty."

"There's a little of your mother in you," Dean noted as he grabbed his coat off the hook. He slipped his shoes on, and, just before they stepped out into the snowy night, he called out to his mother, announcing he'd be back later.

It was comfortable to hold her hand, after so many months of doing so, thus he grasped her mitten-clad hand in his own. The two of them strolled down the walkway. It was chilly so he stuffed his other hand in his jacket pocket. Meanwhile, he couldn't help but notice with a smile as Rory, face turned upwards, was watching snowflakes land on her cute, pink nose.

"You'll go cross-eyed if you do that."

"Yeah. But you'll still love me."

"I'll always love you."

"If you know what's good for you, you will," she asserted offhandedly, to which Dean sighed. She picked up on his mood then, as was her normal tendency, and changed her tone. "I wasn't seriously threatening you, you know."

"No… I know."

"Dean, what's wrong?"

Dean took his time answering her. He guided her off the sidewalk and to the park playground that was at the end of his street. "Nothing's wrong."

"Uh-huh," she replied with a sarcastic bent.

"I've got two tickets to _Two Towers_," he began. Now it was Rory's turn to sigh, Dean noted. The sound further cemented his belief that he was doing the right thing. "I was wondering if you'd like to go."

Rory bit her lip. "You know I don't really wanna see that movie. The first book was never the same after seeing the first one."

"Yeah, I know," Dean replied slowly as the two of them continued to make their way to the playground. He spoke offhandedly. "Well… since you don't want to go, I guess I'll go with someone else."

"Yeah. Todd might like to go."

"Yeah," Dean exhaled. _This is going to be hard,_ he thought, and he exhaled again before adding, "Actually, there's a friend of mine who's already suggested we go together."

"Oh, good," she smiled. Clearly, she was happy to be off the hook. Her face turned away from his, and she once again took in the spectacle of falling snow.

"Linda Leftler," Dean added before wincing. There. He'd said it. And that was when the smile froze on Rory's face. She'd been in the middle of giving his hand a squeeze when her fingers had frozen too.

"A girl?" she questioned, pinpricks of hurt and confusion carrying themselves on the wings of her voice; they stabbed at his heart.

"Yeah. She is," he replied as nonchalantly as he knew how.

"Is it a date?"

"No. It's just two friends seeing a movie," he bargained, now pleading. He felt out of control. He was silently begging her to understand there was nothing between him and Linda, all the while not being sure of it himself.

They'd reached the jungle gym by that time, and Rory dropped his hand to go sit on a swing by herself. She sat dejectedly, her mittened hands on the chains and her legs vaguely pushing her body back and forth. Thankfully, she wasn't crying. Instead, her eyes just focused on the snowy ground with determination.

Dean collapsed on the swing next to hers, wrapped his arms around the chains, and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. They weren't touching anymore, and the separation was profound.

"Do you want to date other people?" she asked him after a long silence. She didn't know why the idea of Dean with another girl was bothering her. It meant that she would be free too. 

"No!" he assured her in an utterance that could only be described as a reflex action. As quickly as he said it, however, he immediately began to backtrack. "Uh… unless _you_ want to."

"No, I don't," she replied slowly, lying through her teeth. "But you want to go out with Linda."

"It's not like we'd be 'going out'," he stressed. "More like 'hanging out'."

"Dean," she admonished. "I'm not stupid. It would be a date. I know it would be." He'd been meeting her eyes then, and there was no way he could lie to her. Instead, he just fell silent, his lips parted as though she'd pointed out something otherwise unseen by him. He didn't know what he was supposed to say so he waited for her to speak first. 

"Actually, I lied," she went on cautiously, thinking that she should just get it over with. There would never be another chance like this to admit what she so desperately needed to say. She turned her eyes away from him, afraid to witness the look on his face when she said it at last. "There… is someone that I'd kinda like to…"

"Date," he finished for her.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Jess," Dean growled, feeling that familiar tightening in his jaw, the familiar grimace he always felt at the thought of Jess winning his girlfriend away from him. 

But tonight, on this beautiful Christmas night, when the air was brimming with magical possibility, Dean took a moment to savour the pain and anger and then just… let the feeling go. He took a purposeful, steadying breath but discovered that, surprisingly, it hadn't really been necessary; he wasn't half as upset about Rory dating Jess as he would have expected to be.

"Are you mad?"

Dean pushed himself back and forth on the swing, his feet never leaving their spot on the earth. He turned away from her gaze and watched as snowflakes fell and melted on the lap of his jeans. "I'll be all right. I'm not mad."

"You're not?" she said with just enough surprise and disbelief to start the smirk spreading across his lips.

Dean swallowed and turned his eyes to the evergreen trees before them. "It's not like I didn't see it coming. I know you like Jess."

"Oh." They sat there in a moment of silence, both absently swinging themselves, and when she added, "I do like Jess," Dean felt no pain.

***

Lane felt more comfortable under the dark shroud of night. She scooted along, keeping to the shadows, her feet barely skimming the lightly trodden snow. When she reached the walkway, she gave one final glance around her, searching for the one lurking person who would be her downfall. Lane heard silence, and, through the fluffy flakes of snow drifting to the earth, she saw no one. Her eyes twinkled at the spy-less sight. _A perfect crime!_

Quietly, she quickly turned up the walkway, and, bypassing the front door, she followed the path around to the back of the house. In mere moments, she found the window she sought - the light was still on and the various tour posters on the wall inside revealed all she needed to know. The 'Eric Burdon & the Animals 1968 Whisky A Go-Go' poster was the first one to greet her. 'The Velvet Underground at the Fillmore,' the Stones, David Bowie, and the Ramones followed shortly thereafter. Needless to say, Lane was impressed by the sight.

With only the briefest hesitation, she crouched low and picked her way through the tall shrubbery. "Urh-h-h," she uttered gutturally and shivered as a branch whacked her on the back of the head, and a good amount of the snow it carried found its way directly down her coat. She was thankful no one had seen that temporary moment of indignity. Recovering her poise, she found herself beside the house, hidden by a wall on one side and a row of hedges on the other.

Taking off her backpack and laying it beside her feet, she crouched down by the side of the window and listened for a second, waiting for the heat of her blush to subside. Inside, she heard the smooth, melodic strains of Miles Davis's _How Deep is the Ocean_, and it lit up her whole face in a smile. It felt like the home she should have had. 

Catching her breath, Lane tried to calm her nerves. She reminded herself that this wasn't completely out of the blue and that she was doing the right thing. When her breathing had slowed to normal, but before her heart had stopped its incessant pounding, she tapped lightly on the frosted pane of glass.

Dave peeked around the corner and caught sight of Lane beside his window. He pushed open the sash with a look of amazement colouring his handsome features. "Lane?"

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

He looked happy to see her, but, still, she faltered slightly. "Um. I came to see you."

"No, I mean, why are you in the bushes?"

The smile barely wavered on her face. "Do I need to remind you of my mother?"

Dave nodded and smiled. "No. Right. It's OK. Whether you're in the bushes or not, it's still good to see you."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Let me get my coat. We can go out for coffee or something."

"Are you kidding? No one can see me outside - it might get back to my mother. I'm supposed to be snug in my bed entertaining visions of sugar plums right now."

"So what do you want to do?" Dave smiled with understanding but asked cheekily, "Hang out in the bushes?"

"OK."

Dave laughed. "I was kidding."

"I wasn't," Lane replied, and they chuckled together for a moment.

"OK, let me get my coat; I'll be right out." Dave closed the window and, pushing away from it, disappeared from the room. A short while later, as Lane was still crouched and facing his window, she almost jumped when she heard him come around behind her. Unexpectedly, he had used the door. Lane had to remind herself that not everyone needed to sneak in and out of windows.

He brought with him a couple of folded blankets and dropped one down on the snow-dusted ground under the window. "Have a seat," he offered, and she gratefully took him up on it. Her shins had grown tired of crouching and to sit down was like a dream come true. He sat down beside her and placed the other blanket over their knees. When they were comfortable, he presented her with a large, flat, wrapped box.

"Oh!" she said, surprised. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," he replied, smiling.

The package felt relatively heavy, and Lane eagerly ripped it open. Her eyes misted over a bit when she saw the contents. "You got me a tunable practice pad!"

"Yeah, I know you've been practicing on pots and pans. That's just not right," Dave said, shaking his head sadly. "These things are great because they emulate the feel of a real drum. And," Dave went on, revealing the thought he'd put into the gift choice. "It's less than a foot wide and fairly thin so it should be pretty easy for you to hide it from your mom. I got you a stand for it too, but it's still in the house. It's only an individual stand," he apologized.

"No, this is perfect! The whole drumset configuration would have been impossible to hide. Dave, this gift is the best!" Impulsively, she turned towards him and threw an arm around his shoulders, hugging both him and the beloved practice pad enthusiastically. 

Dave chuckled at her exuberance and returned the hug. "You're welcome. Now you should have no problem running through those ratamacues and buzz rolls."

"Oh, no problem at all! I'll use it every chance I get!" Lane cried before abruptly realizing how much she was throwing herself at him. Not in a "hitting on him" kind of way but in a literal "piling herself on top of him" way. Suddenly shy, she cleared her throat and pulled back. " Um," she said, bashful and flustered. "I got you something too." Placing the drum pad on her lap, she reached over and pulled her backpack towards them. She heaved the heavy package out of the bag and passed it along.

"It's big," he said.

"I guess you've been good this year," she teased, trying to cover up her own nervousness.

Dave laughed softly, and, with one final glance at her eyes, he turned and focused on the present in his lap. He tore off the wrapping paper and found The Beatles Anthology inside it. "Hey, Lane! Sweet!" he exclaimed as he read the silver book jacket on the hefty autobiography.

"Yeah, you like it?"

"Do I ever!" he enthused before turning to her and adopting a tone of genuine gratefulness. "Lane, this is awesome." He opened the book right away and placed it on his lap, a little towards his left so that it was partially on her lap as well. They could read it by the dim light spilling out from the window behind them. He chose a random paragraph and began reading in a commentator's voice.

"It was never an overnight success. When we began to headline bills on theatres, we felt we had really arrived. The next ladder to climb was radio. It was a gentle thing; we had conquered the clubs - we'd conquered the Indra, we'd conquered the Cavern - and we had gradually become quite known, so it was, 'Well, what's left? Radio!'" Dave smiled and turned his gaze back to her eyes. "That is so gonna be us someday."

"Wow. Radio," Lane gasped, meeting his gaze. Then, she collected herself. "I guess I'll have to tell my mother about my being in a band before then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Dave admitted, his eyes twinkling. "But we can concentrate on the clubs for now. We've still got a _little_ time." He flipped the page and began reading elsewhere. "In those old Cavern days, half the thing was just ad lib; what you'd call comedy. We just used to mess about, jump into the audience, do anything."

"Can you imagine that? Skits and stuff?" Lane giggled. "I see it now: 'And now we present to you… the Great Brian Powell and his astoundingly audible deviated septum!'"

Dave laughed too. "Maybe we should just stick to the music."

"I think that would be wise."

That being said, Lane leaned back against his house, a smile on her face and her heart full. Although they were safely hidden from the houses across the alley, the bushes still offered a breathtaking view of the night sky. She caught a glimpse of the light snow fluttering gently to the earth before Dave's next words drew her eyes back to his animated face. 

"I can't believe you showed up in my bushes," he teased, also leaning back until his shoulder brushed hers.

"I go to great lengths to lead a normal life."

"And yet you're in bushes," he added, eyes dancing. 

Lane laughed at the irony, her eyes growing sparkly with mischief. "You ma-a-ay be right. I ma-a-ay be crazy," she sang softly, to which a smile lit up his face.

"But it just may be a lu-u-unatic you're looking for," he replied, immediately catching her drift and singing along through his laughter.

"It's too late to fight."

"It's too late to change me," he came back, imitating Billy Joel's vocal stylings perfectly. He joined her in singing the last line, "You may be wrong, for all I know! But you may be right." 

At the end of the chorus, they both erupted in laughter. As Lane conjured up the amusing image of some passerby hearing the shrubs burst with song and hilarity, she couldn't help thinking how good it felt to spend this crazy moment with Dave. She shivered.

"Getting cold?"

"No. I'm fine."

"We can go in the house."

"No, I really shouldn't."

"I'm not hiding you from _my_ parents, you know. C'mon, they won't say anything to your mom."

"Well…" Lane hesitated.

"C'mon. They'll love you. You can meet my little brother." He saw the indecision still clouding her face and offered one last plan of attack. "We have hot chocolate," he lured.

"OK," she finally caved, giving in to temptation. She let Dave pull her from the bushes. 

***

As Lane enjoyed a comfortable evening in the Rygalski home, Lorelai and Rory were across town, taking a walk through the chilly night air and the precious snowfall. 

"So, you're all right?" Lorelai asked hesitantly, tucking her scarf a little tighter around her neck.

Rory thought about this for a moment and decided she could answer with complete certainty. "Yeah, I am. And you?" 

"Better than all right, Babe," she enthused, thinking about how everything in her life seemed to be falling into place. She was distracted from her happy thoughts, however, by the unusual action that was taking place across the street in front of Doose's Market. 

"Check it out," Lorelai suggested, nodding her head in the direction of Kirk.

"What the –" Rory wondered as she caught sight of Kirk adopting a theatrical pose, holding an object to the sky with one hand and gesturing grandly towards it with the other.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" He gestured, rolling his R's as he spoke. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate!"

"What in the world?" Lorelai wondered aloud. "What is that thing he's holding?"

"I think it's a fruit."

"I know _he's_ a fruit, but what's the fruit holding?"

Rory giggled even through her rampant disbelief. "Is it an orange?"

"Hmm…" Lorelai disagreed. "An apple maybe?"

Rory blinked her eyes and stared more intently. "I think it's a ... _kumquat_?"

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May," Kirk went on, lamenting the plight of the delicate kumquat. "And summer's lease hath all too short a date."

"Quite the thespian," Rory remarked.

"I'm finding it comforting to know he's across the street from us. Do you find that?"

"Oh yeah. Distance is our friend," Rory concurred, still watching him steadily.

"G'evening, Lorelai, Rory," he called across to them as he became aware of their presence. He didn't seem the slightest bit taken aback to have been caught reciting Shakespearean love sonnets to a member of the citrus family. 

They greeted him sincerely and watched as he then turned back to the fruit and continued his ode. "When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see," he cried dramatically. "So long lives this, and this gives life to thee!"

Rory and Lorelai promptly brought their heads together and lowered their voices. "Wow. He just keeps getting weirder and weirder," Rory staggered. 

"I'll say. He really freaked his Giftee out when he gave her all of those sexy books."

Rory nodded, remembering the encounter in the bookstore five days earlier. She couldn't believe so much had happened in such a short time. Turning to her mother, she asked of Kirk's Giftee, "So she flipped out?"

"Yeah, Luke and I saw the whole thing at the party last night. I guess she couldn't take what the books were insinuating."

"Well, it _was_ an unusual gift choice."

"I'll say."

"That boy's peculiar," Rory said, and the two of them turned their heads back to Kirk and continued on their way past him.

"He's crazy," Lorelai agreed.

"Insane."

"Eccentric and odd."

Rory laughed as she began, "He's a few…"

"…Verses short of a Christmas carol!" they both finished up in unison. Lorelai joined in the laughter as they continued winding their way through downtown Stars Hollow.

"I think we've found a new seasonal slogan, my friend."

"I think you're right, _mi amiga_."

"So it's Christmas night. You know what that means."

"Resolutions," Rory agreed.

"Yes. Resolutions. New Year's resolutions. We've gotta get crackin'. There're only 6 days left to decide on the very best ones."

"A festive person's work is never done."

"I know. Celebration is such drudgery," Lorelai lamented.

"Ooh! Ooh! I've got one. How's this? In 2003, I resolve to beat the world's record for the number of people squeezed into one Volkswagen Beetle!"

"Ooh, tough one," Lorelai said, impressed. "28 is a lot of people."

"I know. But I got game."

"Guinness, here you come!"

"How about this one?" Rory added. "In 2003, I resolve to freeze hell over and teach pigs to fly."

"So negative!" Lorelai declared.

"It's not negative at all," Rory pouted. "It says that I'm going to take the _impossible_ and make it _possible_!"

"Huh," Lorelai considered. "Come to think of it, you're right, Daughter Dear. Hey, I've got one too. How does 'I resolve to learn tap-dancing' grab you?"

"Where it hurts."

"Oh… yeah. It's not my best work."

"You can _definitely _do better."

"What if I added fruit to it? Then, even Kirk could appreciate it. 'I resolve to learn to tap-dance while balancing a basket of fruit on top of my head'," she stated decisively.

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" Rory managed to get out before her giggles took over. "I think Miss Patty teaches a course in that."

"In 2003," Lorelai went on, letting their silliness carry her away. "I resolve to dye my hair fuchsia and tour the world preaching the wonders of strawberry lollypops."

"Good, good," Rory nodded. "I still maintain they have healing properties."

"Of course, 'cause how can you feel bad when you're eating a strawberry lollypop?"

"Exactly. In 2003," Rory broke in. "I resolve to take a two-toed sloth on a scenic trip around the world. Two-toed sloths so rarely get to travel. I bet they'd like Spain."

"In 2003, I resolve to _find_ you a two-toed sloth so you can make all your dreams come true!"

Rory giggled again and then grew serious. "What's your real resolution, Mom?"

Lorelai took a moment to think it over while she uttered, "Ummm." Rory looked up at her expectantly until Lorelai finally answered. "In 2003, I resolve never to deny my heart its true desires."

"Ooh, good one," Rory agreed genuinely.

"Yeah, I thought so too!" Lorelai enthused, proud of her pronouncement. But, she worried, "You don't think it's too sappy, do you?" 

"No. It's just sappy enough," Rory assured her with a nod of the head and a pat on her mother's shoulder. Actually, all joking aside, her mother's pledge had breathed a sense of inspiration into Rory. She silently pledged that resolution for herself as well.

"Oh good. Then it's perfect."

"Yes, it is."

They had wandered quite a distance by that time and were now making their way along a winding path through a park. "Hey, look at what Kirk's doing now!" Lorelai exclaimed exaggeratedly, pointing across Rory at a spot in the distance. In the second her daughter had turned her head away, Lorelai grabbed a mitt-full of snow and tossed it at her, the icy sprinkles shimmering in the light of the street lamps.

"Hey!" cried Rory, almost immediately scrambling to gather her own snow. "I can't believe I fell for that!"

"I can't either!" Lorelai laughed as she too gathered snow. They threw their respective grenades at the same time, each missing their target by inches in their excitement. Quickly, they stooped down to reload and launched second attempts. This time, Lorelai managed to peg Rory square in the chest, and the snow burst into the girl's face. "Direct hit!" Lorelai whooped, throwing her hands into the air and doing a touchdown dance.

"Pthe! Pthe!" Rory sputtered, still in good spirits. "That's it. You die!" The look on Rory's face must have been formidably daunting because Lorelai, squealing with glee, took off at a run. Laughing maniacally, Rory gave chase. 

Lorelai ran across the park grounds as fast as her high-heeled winter boots would allow, laughing breathlessly. She cut a path through the pristine snow up a slight incline. It was on the down-slope where she slipped and, laughing, tumbled backwards into a cushiony snow bank. 

Rory, with a fresh handful of snow, crested the hill and pounced, knowing Lorelai to be a waiting target. Unexpectedly, however, she found the same patch of slickness that her mother had, and her feet took off without her. With a resounding "Whoo-ah-ah!" she landed with a dull thud and slid right up beside her mother, snow flooffing up into the air and spraying a still-prone Lorelai. When Rory comprehended what had happened, she relaxed her head onto the snow and turned a cheerful face to meet her mother's. They promptly burst out laughing, making no move to get up. 

Lorelai was in hysterics. "You sound so funny when you fall. 'Whoo-ah-ah!'" she gasped. "You sounded like a sick monkey!" 

"Hey!" Rory reached down and grabbed more ammo. She playfully tossed the frozen crystals over her mother, an action that only served to heighten their laughter.

When they had calmed down somewhat, Rory stared up into the sky, watching as more snow arrived to peacefully blanket them. She took a breathless moment to cherish the sight. Over the years, her adoration for snow had grown to be almost as great as that of her mother. Lorelai was still giggling.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Rory asked as she extracted herself from their frosty sofa. She reached down to help pull her mother out as well.

"'Cause everything is so perfect."

"It's the snow, isn't it?" Rory smiled knowingly, shaking the clinging white stuff off her sleeve.

"No," Lorelai's face glowed as she threw her arms to the side and looked skyward. "It's just… life!"

***

The next day, Rory declined her mother's invitation, persuasive though it was, to hit the malls for after-Christmas sales. Instead, she found herself on a stool in Luke's Diner, finishing up a cheeseburger. 

When she had swallowed the last bite, Jess came over and stood across the counter from her. He offered her more coffee. 

"No thanks, Jess," she smiled shyly, putting on her coat. Glancing around, Rory reached into her deep, wool pocket and pulled out some money for her food as well as a small, rectangular present, carefully wrapped in silver and gold holiday paper. Jess put down the pot of coffee and, with a look of curiosity, accepted both from her.

"You got me a gift," he stated, dropping her money in the till and handing her change.

"I got you a gift." 

Jess looked at her closely, then flipped the gift over and began to peel back the paper. 

"You're not going to open it now, are you?" she worried. She didn't think that she wanted to be there when he saw what was inside.

Jess smirked at her. "I was."

"Right in front of me?"

"Why not?"

"Right here?" she asked, to which he raised an eyebrow.

Jess looked around at the scattered patrons in the diner. "No," he said finally. "Come on," and, without another word, he stepped around to the front of the counter and pulled Rory into the nearby storeroom. It was all she could do to keep from wrenching herself out of his grasp and bolting from the diner. Her heart was pounding.

Once they were alone in the storage room, Jess began to unwrap the gift again, observing Rory all the while with a questioning, seductive gaze. Rory's cheeks flushed hotly.

When he'd successfully removed the wrapping, he broke eye contact with Rory and looked down at the gift. Seeing what it was, he smiled brilliantly – not a smirk but a genuine, full smile. Rory couldn't help but grin along with him, her eyes dancing.

"This looks familiar," he said, the smile reaching his voice and making it lighter somehow.

"Yeah?" Rory asked. 

"Yeah," he said softly, glancing up at her. "Did you like it?"

"Maybe," Rory replied noncommittally, blushing.

As Jess watched her, he didn't think she'd ever looked more beautiful. Needing some amount of distance between them before he did something she might not want, he looked back down at the book and flipped through the pages. As they flew past under his thumb, he noticed small handwriting in the margins.

He returned his eyes to hers, surprised. "You wrote in the margins?"

"Well, it isn't often one has the opportunity to read an intriguing Hemingway novel. I mean, they really are few and far between," she said. "I guess it inspired me. Plus, I wanted you to know what I was thinking as I read it, how much I loved it."

"You loved it?"

"Yeah," Rory said softly, warmly – fully aware of the double meaning she was infusing into the simple word.

"I always knew I'd get you to like Hemingway," he bragged. His statement brimmed with _double entendre_ as well.

"Well, you were right. It just took me a little longer to figure it out."

Jess smiled and glanced back down at the book. It was then that he noticed the envelope tucked in between two pages towards the back. Removing it, he turned his eyes back to Rory and noticed that her blush had just grown several shades redder.

More curious than ever, he smoothly slid his finger under the envelope's flap and removed the contents. He glanced at the paper as he pulled it out and then once again up into her eyes. "It's a poem."

"Yes," she squeaked in a small voice. 

Much to her embarrassment, he began to read the poem aloud in a soft, clear voice. The sound was beautiful to her ears, but it terrified her. There was no turning back now.

"All this time spent in denial and  
My feelings I would hide.  
But now I've begun to understand  
The way I feel inside.

"I thought first love shan't be forsaken.  
But I was wrong because  
The love I felt, I had mistaken  
For more than what it was.

"You've helped me understand this,  
More than anyone.  
I knew from the moment of our first kiss  
Something wonderful had begun."

As he read the last line, Jess looked back up at Rory, his surprised pleasure reflecting itself in the smile slowly overtaking his face. 

"You broke up with Dean?"

"Yes."

"How are you?"

"Nervous," she said honestly.

Slowly, Jess moved closer to Rory and let his hand rest gently on her cheek. He allowed himself a grin as he took in her impossibly blue, shimmering eyes. Then, when the moment was right, he let his gaze flicker from those eyes down to her lips and back again. He whispered simply…

"Don't be."

***

_FINIS_

Please review!

This story is a **collaborative effort between MahliaLily ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=288788 )** and CircleSky.


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